


Just Ask Me To

by TellMeThisIsNotLove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All the combinations to be honest, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, Blow Jobs, But like actual banter, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not like they did at Wetten Dass, POV Alternating, Serenading, So please don't ask THAT question, The X Factor Era, if that was ever a question, oh and the most important, rbb and sbb, they kinda share that really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 120,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10889064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeThisIsNotLove/pseuds/TellMeThisIsNotLove
Summary: “You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers.“Of course I’m telling the truth!” Harry doesn’t even care that he sounds exasperated.“Oh my god.” Louis grabs the wall behind him as if looking for support. His body slides down against it until he’s sitting crouched on the floor.He mumbles something but Harry can’t really figure out what it is. He crouches down, and looks desperately at the breaking boy in front of him.“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers. “You were not supposed to–”“I was not supposed to do what? Tell me please,” Harry urges, taking Louis’ hands gently in his.Or the X Factor era canon fic where they learn how to be a couple and that not everyone is going to be on their sides especially those with plain white t-shirts and saccharine smiles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Get ready for the longest note ever, because this fic has been sitting on my Google drive for almost a year now and it wouldn't have seen the light without my amazing friends who were with me throughout the entire process so they deserve a word or two. 
> 
> It all started with a stupid dream I woke up from one day and I couldn't remember the whole thing but there was this one sentence that just got me and I have sworn not to write another fic because I had enough on my plate but as you might suspect I already had a Word Doc with a blinking cursor open in the afternoon. 
> 
> The fic is finished and each chapter will be posted weekly on Friday. 
> 
> Special thanks to [Maya](http://droppingtheveilofmaya.tumblr.com) who encouraged me from day one. You were the first person I shared the idea of this fic with, and I don't even remember how the topic of fics even came up, maybe it was because of the Captive Prince, but you were so intrigued by a TXF canon fic, that you literally gave me wings. Without your early and continuous support this fic wouldn't have made it to AO3. Thank you darling! 
> 
> [Addy](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com), how should I even start this? :) You came at the best time, when I had a lot of thoughts, maybe too many, and they were tangled together, there were too many plot lines and not everything was important. You called me out on them immediately, and with that you helped giving the fic purpose, you made me think, challenged me like no one ever did and helped trim the fic where I lost my line of thought and added more detail/explanation where it was necessary. Thank you for all the help! :) 
> 
> [Monia](http://floralrry.tumblr.com), [Silvia](http://melmanpur.tumblr.com) and [Vera](http://thegirlinthemirrorposts.tumblr.com), (strictly in alphabetic order), thank you for being my betas, you were more than just betas, to be honest! I'm overwhelmed by the energy and time you spent reading (and re-reading) this monster, because it indeed was one and you helped me cut it tremendously, we brainstormed together and it all made the fic better. Vera you were my backbone when it came to finding ooc's and brainstorming left and right. We're so on the same wavelength that it's scary. I'll never forget how much you contributed to this fic :) 
> 
> I'd also like to thank [Shar](http://tommosgun.tumblr.com) and [KK](http://waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee.tumblr.com) for making my painfully American English British. I apologize for all the z's and American spellings. 
> 
> I would also like to thank Lucas and Mavi for reading through the parts. Lucas you were so helpful and your detailed description of everything helped me so much. I don't think I've ever had a more awkward conversation and I don't know who blushed more, me or you but you took my questions like a pro, so thank you guys again! 
> 
> I believe I tagged everything, but if there's any warning needed, I'll include it in the beginning of the chapter. Also, for those who don't want to read smut, I'll mark it with a ~~~~ so you can skip it. 
> 
> Please let me know if I missed something! 
> 
> Also, it should be obvious as it's called fanFICTION, but for those who need it spelled out: this is a work of fiction and I'd very much appreciate if you never linked it to the boys or their family. 
> 
> If you'd like to translate it, please run it through me. 
> 
> Peace x  
>  Gabi

 

If Harry had to describe the day he auditioned for the X factor, he would use no other words than hectic and chaotic. It was a blur, passed way too fast to remember clearly but at the same time, it all happened in slow motion.

He only stood in line for five minutes before he found himself sat on a stool, to give his first ever interview. He was surrounded by hundreds of people and he would've paid attention to the instructions he was given (he tried, he did) if he hadn't noticed a loose thread on his shirt. By the time the stubborn thread gave out and he could finally focus on what to do; they had to do several retakes.

Overall it was okay. More than _okay_ to be honest. There were a few moments when he forgot the nervousness and allowed the feelings to take over. He felt the rush of it all, the realisation hit him that he was _really_ auditioning and he was _really_ doing it. It was no longer singing to his family or friends or for a school production. This was The X Factor where things could turn very real in no time.

A scary as it sounded, part of him liked the feeling.

On the other hand, he had all the right reasons to be nervous: he couldn't help but admit how much talent, charisma and style (ha!) surrounded him. He felt small next to them, the odd one out. He was almost expecting an official to appear and walk him out of the venue any minute. He felt like everyone's attention was on him which, of course, was ridiculous considering the crowd was busy befriending each other, exchanging phone numbers and life stories instead of frowning at him.

“It's all in your head,” he heard his mum say resting a comforting hand on his lower back. “You're going to be great, honey.”

He believed it all in that moment, believed that he was capable of doing anything.

The problem was, this newly discovered confidence lasted right until he looked around because everyone was _interesting_ -isn't what all of these shows looking for?- while he was anything but. They all had something captivating: vibrant personality, purple hair, a funny costume, a unique instrument to play, an identical twin. He was just Harry from Holmes Chapel in a plain shirt and jeans.

Inadequate.

Not only that but some of them were actually good. _Really good._

He closed his eyes and cursed himself for thinking he ever stood a chance. He needed air. Maybe a drink. Or ten. He settled on washing his face instead because freshening up would help him get his shit together, right?

He found the toilet easily. Four stalls, four urinals and a huge mirror above the basin. The best thing of it? It was empty.

He stepped in front of the mirror and frowned at his reflection, immediately regretting it. His hair was messier than ever because he was running his fingers through it all day long. _Great._ Just what he needed. He was going to be a guaranteed mess inside and out.

He wetted his fingers and combed them through his hair trying to save what he could. He looked exhausted.

The bags under his eyes appeared two days ago when he sat in the living room, already accepting in peace that he wouldn't get a call back. Said call did come, a bit too late if he was being honest. 'Are you coming or not?’ the guy on the phone asked which, rude, 'cause talk about last minute. It's not that he didn't want this but he had a school trip in two days and it was a no brainer to cancel the trip. It just took him some time to rewire his head that he'd be singing on stage instead. ‘Y-Yeah, I'll be there.' 'Cool. Send your list of three songs in an email by the end of today’.

 _Fuck!_ He couldn't even name one song let alone three. Not to mention he had no outfit, speech, or a ride. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Eventually the songs were sent, the outfits (two) were chosen, the ride got arranged and here he was.

In the toilet.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Yes, he was talking to himself. “You can do this. You can totally do this.” Maybe if he repeated it more he would actually believe it. “This is just stage fright. Calm. _Calm.”_ He kept inhaling and exhaling slowly, eyes closed. “You want this. No no. Positive thinking. You were _made_ for this.”

If only it was that easy. If only he could be like these people outside, able to put his nerves aside, to just enjoy the experience, laugh and live this moment like them.

As of now he was happy to be hiding in an empty restroom.

Fate had other plans though.

It brought him Louis.

Louis with eyes so blue he couldn't decide if he wanted to spread his arms and fly or jump into them and swim. Those eyes captivated him from the start, along with the loud enticing boy who they belonged to.

They couldn’t have met at a worse time though, because it was at the lowest moment of Harry's life.

Their story began in the very bathroom where he was giving himself a pep talk. “You’re going to be a star” was the last thing he said to the mirror before Louis, - who was still a stranger _, his stranger_ \- entered the toilet and barreled towards the urinals.

Harry hopped in front of the urinal quickly, trying to act naturally and started to pee so the stranger wouldn't even remember he was giving himself a pep talk but he was never good at keeping a poker face and the blush creeping up his cheeks was inevitable.

_God, please tell me he didn't hear me talking to myself._

There were no divine signs given, of course, why would they come when one wishes for them.

Instead what happened was a development of events he was quite happy with, meaning the boy ended up right next to him even though there were two other urinals.  

_Not too bad, eh?_

This stranger had an aura like those people who attracted attention even in the biggest crowds, this boy’s mere presence _demanded_ heads to turn in his direction. Well, Harry's. Definitely his. Or maybe he was wrong, maybe it was all in his head.

Still, it was _terrifying_ to be in the same room, this close to this creature. Harry only chanced a sneaky glance at him when a decent amount of time passed.

And oh boy was he beautiful.

No, not _just_ beautiful. Harry was pretty sure his picture would pop up at the word _perfect_.

_Get a fucking grip._

His brown hair was freshly cut and looked so soft that Harry wanted to run his fingers through it. He didn't see much of the boy, considering that he was still peeing but he could recognise a great arse, for sure.

And that was a nice arse in those jeans.

_So much for getting a grip._

He turned his upper body slightly to have a better view of that round arse, forgetting the fact that he was in a fucking toilet, still relieving himself.

And the worst happened.

“Oops!” Harry shrieked when drops of his pee fell on the stranger. That's right. His _pee._

The stranger just jumped back like a gazelle. Harry would've written an ode for that movement if he wasn't busy watching the mess he made.

He buried his head in his hands.

Maybe it didn't happen. Maybe he was just imagining things. He sneaked a glance and _no._ It was no dream.

Those jeans were _most definitely_ pissed on. 

_Oh. My. God._

_Ohmygodohmygod._

To his biggest surprise the stranger remained silent, probably still in shock over his clumsiness.

Harry didn't dare to look up and spent at least half a minute in silence examining the damned liquid gather into a growing patch on the stranger’s blue jeans.

He was snapped out of his trance when a polite cough came from the very victim of his klutziness. He risked a peek at him, it wasn’t like he had anything to lose anymore, he had already ruined it, about that he was confident, so he didn't care that his eyes were open ridiculously wide and his mouth was unattractively agape and he was most definitely looking like a clown in front of this enticing boy.

Before he had the chance to jabber a five minute-long rant of _sorrys_ the other boy just laughed out loud, eyes twinkling.

“Hi!” the boy chirped looking at Harry, then shifted his gaze down to examine his trousers a bit more closely.

Harry blushed.

Judging by his features shifting into a frown, the boy was probably calculating the damage Harry caused. After he finished he looked up and Harry felt his breath knocked straight out of his lungs.

_Did someone cut out the best parts of the sky and washed them with the blue ocean?_

Because fuck, there was no colour scale that would give the colour of his eyes justice. It was unique. Mesmerising.

_God. I'm staring._

The expression on the boy’s face turned smoother and the edges of his lips curled up. “Well, that’s one way to meet cute boys.”

Harry’s eyes widened even more.

_Did he just say I’m cute? As in cute cute?_

“Don’t get me wrong,” the stranger continued. “I’m glad it happened, but I prefer making boys blush rather than have them look at me in horror. Hey, don’t worry.“ He took a breath and leaned in close, lips brushing the hair on Harry’s ear lightly as he whispered “I always hated these jeans. I only wore them today because I was too lazy to do my laundry and wash my favourite ones. But I’m reconsidering what I call favourite from now on.” He stepped back and winked. _Winked._

Alarms went off in Harry’s head, his brain was desperately trying to deliver a message to _do_ _something, talk, interact, abort clumsiness, targeted cute boy showing interest,_ but the message didn't seem to arrive. He just stood frozen and now slightly aroused by the near contact of the boy’s lips on his ear.

“I’m Louis by the way, and I would shake your hand under normal circumstances, but...” he trailed off and looked at Harry.

Harry just stared back at him, completely mesmerised. This boy managed to shake his entire existence in sixty seconds.

His gaze snapped at his own hands remembering that the boy, _Louis,_ mentioned handshake and circumstances. He needed a few seconds to understand what he was referring to and then it really settled in he had just peed and oh god _I.peed.on.him._

Before he had a chance to rant, the stranger, well Louis, coughed and raised one eyebrow. “It would be much easier if everyone had their names on it, wouldn’t it?” His piercing blue eyes were fixed pointedly at the number taped on Harry’s chest.

Harry blinked once then dropped his head to look at his chest and if a minute ago he hadn't wished for the ground to open up and swallow his mis-peeing self he sure did then.

“Harry. Harry Styles. Fuck, I’m fucking it all up.”

“You’re passing with flying colours, Curly, don’t worry.” He smiled but that smile soon disappeared when he looked at a still mortified Harry. “Hey. Really. I can pretend this never happened if it makes you feel better.” He offered with a whisper when he finished washing his hands.

“Yes. Please,” Harry stuttered out and walked up to the basin as well. He spluttered the cream soap on his open palms before washing them thoroughly.

“If I get your picture in return.”

Harry’s hand stopped on the tap.

He slowly turned back to Louis with a frown, not caring about the water droplets falling everywhere. “You want m-my picture?”

“Yup.” Louis beamed while drying his hands with a paper towel. “Do you think that’s manageable? With an autograph... if that’s okay,” he added politely while disposing the paper. “That way when you become a busy star touring the world I can say I have your first ever autograph. Don’t look at me like that, I heard you sing, you’re amazing.”

“Oh my god, you heard Superstition? I messed up the second verse.”

“I like how you made the song yours. You were brilliant,” Louis blushed and flicked his fringe out of his eyes.

Harry didn't know which to look at more, the blue blue blue or the feathery soft brown hair.  One thing was sure: he was staring.

Now both of them were blushing.

_Splendid._

It was Louis who snapped out of it first. “You have your phone with you?” Bless him for saving Harry for the umpteenth time.

Harry quickly wiped his hands on his jeans before he started fumbling in his back pocket. He was still in a daze when he fished out his battered Samsung.

Louis snatched the device from him and stepped closer, so close that Harry felt his body heat. Louis then leaned in, only to fit both of them in the picture, Harry reminded himself to breathe and swallowed thickly as he stood immobilised next to the most effortlessly beautiful boy he’d ever seen.

Louis turned on the reverse angle and Harry could see his messy curls and Louis’ beaming happy face and _fuck,_ he couldn't help but smile with him, dimples coming to life.

After all, this boy deserved the best picture with him.

Louis sang _cheeeeese_ and checked the result. Harry watched in amazement as Louis pushed a few buttons, small fingers working surprisingly fast.

When he was done he gave the phone back to Harry. Their fingers touched and Harry swore that the amount of electricity zapping between them must be enough to sustain New York’s lighting for a whole year.

A burly man entered the toilet and walked up to the second urinal from Louis’ right. Harry was afraid that the man’s arrival was going to put an end to his encounter with Louis, which he realised he wanted to prolong as much as possible. Thankfully, the man was minding his own business, without even looking at them.

Harry stepped away from the basin to be closer to the stalls and to give the man some privacy.

After all, toilets weren't designed for flirting.

The man finished washing his hands. They both waited until he left before they continued.

“I took the liberty to send it to myself.” Louis said, more like _asked,_ confidence melting away for the first time, voice sounding unsure.

And that was not okay. Harry had to do something. Shyness be damned.

“Yeah. Sure, yeah. Thank you and.... and sorry again.” Harry maintained eye contact and made sure Louis understood he wasn't just being polite. He dug out a dog-eared schedule of the day and signed it on one lifted knee, almost losing his balance in the process.

Louis grabbed his elbow and held it to help him stay upright.

When Harry was done he handed the flyer to him and he watched as those fingers wrapped around the shiny paper. Nice fingers. Nails neatly cut.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harold.”

Harry looked up just in time to catch Louis’ wink and could only stare at him in confusion.

Louis as if sensing it lifted his own phone in Harry’s direction referring to their deal with the picture.

_I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harold._

_Harold? Wha--? I’m not a Harold!_

Harry raised his index finger to clear up this unfortunate misunderstanding when his eyes met Louis’.

He swore the earth stopped spinning because he only now discovered the golden speckles in Louis’ eyes. They looked as if the endless ocean had been kissed by sunshine.

He couldn't help but _stare._

He was snapped out of his reverie when his eyes landed on Louis’ phone as he waved it in front of him.

Louis darted towards the door, waved a little and stopped in the doorway, looking back at Harry. “I won’t say good luck because you don’t need it. Those judges won’t know what hit them.”

And with that Louis Tomlinson left.

Harry just stood, blinking, mouth opening and closing. What the hell happened?

Was it all a dream or did this inhumanly charming creature really flirt the pants off him?

Fuck the judges, seriously, _he was_ the one not knowing what hit him.

Ironically, now that Louis left, Harry had so much to say, but he chose to keep it all to himself, because _I love you_ and _marry me_ and _let’s have children together_ would be crossing a line, wouldn’t they? After all, he's only known Louis for ten minutes.

He could only hope there would be a next time because for one, he had to clarify that his name was simply Harry and it wasn’t short for Harold and two, he really wanted to see him again; and if option two weighed much more than option one, well… no one had to know.

He was still in a daze when he stumbled out of the bathroom. Mirrors and self-help books long forgotten, his stage fright evaporated with everything that happened in the last ten minutes.

Talent competition aside, a certain brown haired boy took over his thoughts for the entire day. (Read: days).

He passed his audition as predicted by the blue eyed summer storm that came unexpectedly, washing through his every fiber, blowing him away entirely, leaving nothing unaffected.

He felt intoxicated and that single encounter turned a nervous day to the best day of his life.

He was happier than ever and if their freshly taken picture burning in his front pocket caused his heart rate to pick up a bit more than those 2,5 _yeses_ then no one had to know.

That boy made Harry's heart beat so fast it threatened to jump out of his chest.

Have you ever met someone you wanted to know so badly that the mere possibility of it not happening caused physical pain?

That’s how Harry felt.

He craved Louis’ attention and desperately wanted to talk to him more, become his friend. He wanted to do silly things for him, crazy things like scratching his initials into his forearm with a sharpie.

 _Maybe when I know him better,_ he thought.

The more hours passed the more convinced he was that Louis was only nice to him because he saw how much of a nervous wreck he was and the nice boy he was just wanted to help him. Because it couldn't be that a boy of Louis’ calibre would just simply like him, _like_ him?

Fate’s answer was at arm's length when his phone beeped.

It was a message from an unknown number.

 **_Unknown Number:_ ** _Saved your number , if you find it rude or something delete this message and forget it ever happened … (L)_

Harry gave his phone number to only one person that day.

Well, _gave…._ more like, Louis got it by sneaking around on his phone.

_Louis._

Harry read the message again, making sure he wasn't mistaking Louis for another person, because he did fill out a questionnaire for the competition where they asked for his contact info, but the _saved your number_ part was a big giveaway.

The realisation of Louis reaching out to him made his heart skip a few beats. He looked at the _L_ signed at the end and his smile turned into a grin.

_Louis._

Before he knew it, his fingers were already on the reply button.

He didn't want Louis to wait and it was only polite to answer messages.       

He typed _Hiiiii_ and watched as the cursor blinked next to it. _What's next?_ Louis was still a stranger by definition but Harry felt that their connection was so much deeper than that.       

Excitement rushed through his veins while he typed his reply. His hands trembled so much he had to delete back half of the text.

When it was done he looked at the message, finger hovering over the Send button. He tapped the phone undecided if the reply was good enough. Before he had any chance to make a decision, the freaking button was pushed by a wrongly targeted nervous tap.

 _Message sent_ was on his screen.

 _Shit._        

He quickly checked his sent items and read through it. There it was. An awful typo. He was hyperventilating. He read his message again in mortification, eyes fixated on the pixelated letters for so long that they started dancing around. On the list of everything Harry hated typos was in top three.

 **_Harry:_ ** _Hiiiii! No, it’s okay. You do the forgettign_

A fucking typo.        

The sound of his phone beeping snapped him out of his reverie.

 **_Unknown Number:_ ** _Don’t want to ._

_He doesn’t want to? What doesn’t he want to?_

_Forget,_ Harry reminds himself.

And wow.         

He was never the type of person who sold the skin before catching the bear but this..?

Before he had a chance to analyse and celebrate this rather positive turn of events his phone signalled again.

 **_Unknown Number:_ ** _I'm glad I was stood next to you at the urinals ; if I had to get someone's pee splashed on me , I'd much rather have your pee than his pee ._

Harry read it once. Then twice.

The peeing mention guaranteed that it indeed was Louis.

As weird as it all sounded the message warmed his heart. Sure, the other man in the toilet looked scary but people don’t go around telling strangers it’s okay to pee on them if there's not an itty bitty spark or attraction, do they?        

He saved the number with a huge smile before typing in the first thing that came to his mind.

 **_Harry:_ ** _Urine trouble._

Louis’ reply was instant and he more than liked it, God knew he needed fast answers to calm his heavily beating heart.

 **_Louis:_ ** _oh my god you’re one of those with the puns , aren't ya ?_

Harry chuckled, proud of himself.

**_Harry:_** _Yupppp_

 **_Louis:_ ** _I should’ve figured ._

 **_Harry:_ ** _:):):):):):):):):):)::)):)::):):)):):):):)::)):):):):)_

 **_Louis:_ ** _What’s worse is that you’re proud of them puns ._

And okay it wasn't as if Louis was wrong. Harry loved his own puns. Shoot him.

Harry pouted.

 **_Harry:_ ** _Heeeeeeey_

 **_Louis:_ ** _Don’t pout ._

 **_Harry:_ ** _I’m not._

 **_Louis:_ ** _You are ._

 **_Harry:_ ** _Am not._

 **_Louis:_ ** _Harry ._

 **_Harry:_ ** _Louis._

 **_Louis:_ ** _You’re not funny ._

 **_Harry:_ ** _Then why are you laughing?_

Harry giggled.

 ** _Louis:_ ** _I’m most definitely not laughing ._

Liar.

 **_Harry:_ ** _You can admit it, you know?_

 **_Louis:_ ** _Nothing to admit ._

 **_Harry:_ ** _Not everyone is good at puns. It needs special talent Lou. Some people are just not born for it._

The pet name just slipped out and before Harry had a chance to regret it Louis’ reply came.

 **_Louis:_ ** _I pissed myself laughing ._

 **_Louis:_ ** _Was that punny enough ?_

Yes.

 **_Harry:_ ** _No_

 **_Harry:_ ** _I hate you._

 **_Harry:_ ** _I don’t but don’t remind me. :(_

 **_Harry:_ ** _Good one btw._

 **_Harry_ ** _: Still forget it though._

 **_Louis_ ** _: Nope . :)_

Harry growled. He wouldn't ever forgive himself for peeing on Louis.

 **_Harry_ ** _: This is gonna haunt me, isn't it?_

 **_Louis_ _:_ ** _That’s right . I’m gonna tease you loads ._

He wasn’t a big fan of being the butt of jokes, understandably, but somehow being teased by Louis didn't sound half bad.

Peeing incident aside, they became best friends in no time, texting each other the most random things: sending pictures of anything and everything worth a mention (even when it wasn't), making sure neither of them were missing out on the days spent apart. They also agreed to meet up when they would go to the venue for the next stage of the competition.

Harry was afraid of meeting him again  because their only contact was through texts. Okay, _several_ texts every day, but what if they ran out of topic when they would meet? What if they only clicked on social media?

 

It turned out, he didn't need to worry, they continued the banter where they left it off.

Louis was there for him when he was told _no,_ and Harry was there for him when he cried in his arms for the same reason.

A few hours later it was announced that they were all going through as a group instead of solo artists.

It was the most natural thing for Louis to jump into Harry’s arms and for him to hold Louis tight.

Then, one fateful September night they found each other outside of Robin’s bungalow having a late summer picnic. Alone. Louis was making up all these weird names for constellations -in broad daylight- and it was so funny that Harry tipped his head back and laughed until his stomach hurt. When he regained his composure he saw that Louis wasn't laughing and was just staring at him with his mouth slightly open, wetting his lips.

After a bit of talking, the fire burning in Louis’ eyes was enough for their heads to gravitate towards each other, as their lips connected in a sweet first kiss.

There weren’t doubts about whether they should jump head first into a romance or not. It was as if after their lips met everything found purpose, things that didn't make sense before now suddenly did.

There were no alarms that they were making a mistake.

It just kind of happened.

 _They_ just kinda happened.        

Inevitable.

Like a storm, cruel enough to get a name, Louis washing through Britain, coming unexpected. He left nothing dry. He shook Harry's entire existence and it should’ve been scary. There should’ve been questions and doubts. Doubts if it was wise, if it would affect the band, if it was worth the risk.        

But there were no questions. No doubts. They held each other's hands and jumped into the unknown with a confident smile.

They were smitten with each other. There was no such thing as getting bored of each other when it came to them, even though they spent all of the time together. Awake and asleep.        

What used to be the most boring activity, even bloody dishwashing turned out to be amazing and fun. Harry didn't know that his sides could hurt from so much laughing when he was holding Louis’ wrists down to avoid more foam spread on his nose. Or that silence could be good when Louis’ head was in his lap while he read and Louis messaged his family on his phone.       

They were so comfortable with each other that what used to be kept secret, now spilled out uncontrollably.

What used to be embarrassing stories like _Harry wearing women’s clothes or Minnie ears_ now weren't judged or laughed at when he told them to Louis.        

In a matter of weeks they knew everything possible about each other and shared secret smiles when they recognized said stories were retold to other people.

When there was a story told for the hundredth time and the lads were complaining _oh come on, everyone knows you used to be a baker,_ Louis’ face turned serious when he replied _that’s a bit bloody rude of you, he listened to all your stories. Let him continue or sod off._

Harry felt off in these situations but Louis always encouraged him with soft eyes to continue. He was listening as attentively as for the first time, elbows on knees, nodding at the most familiar parts, never interrupting him.        

He was supporting Harry in literally _everything._        

When Harry admitted he wasn't good at pranking people because he was boring, Louis responded, _Harry don’t put yourself down_ and brushed his thumb against his forearms. After that day Louis made sure to involve Harry when it came to plan his pranks.

They became the dream team.          

When they were on the Xtra Factor one night after a performance, the interviewer joked around saying _Harry’s hair is massive and Louis replied I actually think this is bullying towards Harry. I don’t think it’s fair. Walk out Harry, I would._ Louis’ face was red, he was so offended on his behalf.

Harry fell for him hard and fast, the kind of love where you write your initials on a piece of paper and circle them with a red heart.

And the best of it?

It was mutual.

They discussed it.

They were going out since that September night and they hadn't exchanged _I love yous_ yet, not because love wasn't what they felt, but they were so busy, practicing twelve-fourteen hours a day that they ended up falling into their beds dead tired every night.

_Not the best timing for I love you’s, innit?_

Besides, actions spoke louder than words and Harry didn't feel pressured to say it because he could feel love oozing from every glance, touch and kiss they shared.

They were only sixteen and eighteen, but for them this wasn’t just _young love that lasted for  summer, burning out as fast as it started._        

In fact, the _I statements_ turned into _we’s_ so quickly and so naturally that they didn't even realise it and they already discussed the possibility of living together if they got voted out of the competition.       

That alone would’ve made any sixteen year old run until they reached the closest exit. Let’s be real, just the thought of moving in together after knowing each other for mere weeks was fairly reckless even at eighteen.

Not him though, and not _them._

Everyone treated them as couple goals in The X Factor house, and their love story was pretty amazing on its own, even with Louis’ constant teasing for the peeing incident.        

There was a small tiny little tidbit Harry liked to leave out to be perfectly honest.

The thing is, in anyone’s eyes in the house they were an item, but Louis also had a childhood friend Hannah, who played his girlfriend for the public.

That’s right. _Played._ Him and Louis were 100% committed to each other but Louis had to play pretend with her. When he auditioned he was with Hannah and the producer liked it on his application, took it as a sign of maturity. When Louis later explained to him that they broke up, the producer set his jaw and strongly advised to keep her around as his girlfriend for the show because _‘girlfriends mean maturity and maturity brings in the votes’._

That's how Louis and him got stuck in this unpleasant situation and it would’ve been monumentally worse if Hannah wasn’t the sweetest and most supportive person. Thankfully she was.        

Harry still made a point to put off talking with her for as long as possible. He remained cautious even though Louis had assured him she had no hard feelings.

That was, until one afternoon Harry found himself alone with her and it was too late to look for an out because she already greeted him with a cheerful _hi._

To Harry's dismay Hannah didn't ignore the pink elephant in the room.

“I think I've known deep inside that something was missing from me and Louis’ _relationship.”_

A massive weight lifted off Harry's shoulder. All he could think was _I didn't break them up._

“You know, I remember when he spotted you in the crowd.” She dropped her head as she laughed. “I should've known then. God, you should've seen him. His eyes practically lit up.” She grinned and paused for a beat, gaze turning serious. “He never looked at me like that. We never had this deep affection. This devotion.”

Harry just listened to her quietly, not knowing what to say. He still felt weird, Hannah was clearly hurt because of him and Louis.

She went on, unaware of Harry’s thoughts. “You and him, you clicked so easily.” Her voice lowered. “At first I was jealous because I felt I was losing him. You entered his life and all of a sudden everything changed.”        

Harry swallowed thickly, guilt crawling into his whole body but her smile reassured him that it was okay now.

“I was devastated for days. My brother threatened to beat him, he was so angry, you know?” She huffed at the memory. “Then the more I thought about it I realised we just liked each other as friends. I think we only started dating because everyone expected us to. But we weren’t in love. I mean I.. I thought I was but maybe I wasn’t?” she shrugged. “What can I know about love? I’m only eighteen. But if love is how you two look at each other then me and Lou..  we were never in love.”     

Harry bit his lip and opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him with her index finger.

“He had been distant, avoiding me all the time. Whenever I wanted him to meet me he said he wanted to stay in with his family and watch footie but I think it was just an excuse. I think I knew then already, or felt it. So I insisted he came over because we hadn’t seen each other for weeks. I went to the door with heavy steps because I felt it coming. I was ready to yell at him for leaving me and ending this but when I opened the door, he was just standing there, head bent low, drenched in rain. At first he didn’t even dare to look at me but then he found the courage.”

The air was suffocating, Harry wasn't sure he was supposed to hear this.

“His eyes were sad, rims red from so much crying. I never even saw him cry before, never that vulnerable. You can guess, my anger was gone immediately. Because at least he cried, you know? It sounds selfish but I think I deserved his crying over us, over what we could’ve been.”

She lifted her head and smiled at him.

Harry didn't dare to point out that her smile was strained.        

She went on. “I let him in and we sat down and talked. He asked about my family, always polite then about school and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before he broke up with me. I just wanted to get it over with. He waited for a few beats and then whispered out of breath _‘Han I’m falling for a boy and I’m falling hard’._ His cheeks were all red.” Hannah let out a deep sigh. “He wasn't the confident, loud boy I always knew, you know? He was so vulnerable. He felt guilty for having to break up with me. Before I saw him I wanted to strangle him for leading me on. But I saw that he was suffering. Probably already did for weeks. He was conflicted but he was so sure of you, otherwise he would've never come out to me. I just didn’t want to make it harder for him,” Hannah whispered.    

Harry reached out and squeezed her fingers.

She was silent until she laughed. “I think I flat-out surprised him with my answer. I said _‘This is where I should ask if you have known you liked dicks all along but I see you already have enough on your plate’._ He looked at me with wide eyes. I asked him _‘It’s Harry isn’t it?’_ His eyes only grew wider and he nodded and I said _‘I figured’._ ”        

She bit her lip. “I remember Louis just stood there with wide eyes, blinking. _‘You’re not gonna shout or hit me? No arguing?’_ He asked but what was the point?” Hannah looked at Harry, dead in the eye. Harry gulped. “What was the point, Harry? So I told him _‘You love him and I can’t force you to love me instead’._ He hugged me and whispered _‘thank you’._ He said he loved me. And even though it hurt like hell I forced a smile and said _‘Just not like that’._ His shoulders went up, of course he misunderstood my comment. He mumbled _‘No, not like that, sorry’._ He probably thought I was scolding him but I assured him it was okay. He only relaxed after that. We spent all the night talking. I’ve never talked to him as much as that night. He came out to me and he was so relieved. I don’t know what he expected, maybe he thought that I would not support him liking you, and maybe that’s what I should have done. I should’ve hated him and you but I just couldn't… You obviously love him back, Harry and I just can’t not support you two.”        

Harry smiled and she smiled back at him. “I’m sorry for.. uhm we didn't… we didn't… do anything while you… but you know I'm… I'm sorry for how it turned out.”     

“I’m not, Harry, it’s… better now than later, right?” She laughed which made Harry grin as well.

“Fair point.”        

“You really love him.” It wasn’t even a question.        

Harry blushed. “Yeah. I’m… I’m so in awe of him. He’s… he’s amazing. And I’m sorry.”       

“He really is and if you say sorry again I swear to God I'm gonna ---”        

“Kill me. Yeah I got it.” Harry smirked.        

That was all it took to clear things up. After that day Harry stopped feeling the urge to break Hannah and Louis apart whenever he had to witness them pretending to be a couple, which meant holding hands and sending random tweets to each other to keep up the façade.

So it could've been much worse.

Luckily, they didn't have to hide in the house and they would've probably failed miserably as it took no time to come to the logical conclusion that Louis was with him. They were extremely tactile with each other, their whispers were way too intimate for friends and when they looked at each other they had heart eyes.

They were a package deal. When one was missing the other one was guaranteed to be with him. It was like one of those seasonal sales when you bought one product and received another for free. You wanted to sit next to Harry? Sure, but Louis sat on his other side. You wanted to grab brekkie with Louis? That was fine as long as Harry could join.

Him and Louis were intimate but they liked to believe they could behave in public. Their schedules were so hectic and were surrounded by many people in professional setting that they had to settle with ghost touches on the waist or a light caress here and there, just a _hey babe, I’m here_ and it was enough.

Most of the time.        

But every once in a while a simple kiss turned too heated and a touch too burning not to go further and the lads always teased them yelling _get a room_ or they started singing _it’s getting hot in here_ by Nelly _._

They tried not to cross a line. And succeeded.

Well, mostly.

Sometimes.

They managed to find hiding places when they craved for more intimacy, exchanged sweet touches in abandoned corridors and burning kisses behind the curtain, a hug in the doorway when no one was looking or hurried to their room and groped each other under a haphazardly spread hoodie which left nothing to the imagination.

Their flushed faces always gave them away.

 

*

 

Harry is brought back to reality as soon as he enters the common room. He stops in the doorway and can easily zoom in on Louis being the center of attention.

As if on instinct, Louis dips his head in the direction of the door and greets him with a shrieked, ‘ _Hey Haz, look at me!’_       

And Harry looks. Of course he does and can’t help but smile at the scene in front of him: the chairs are pushed against the wall and Louis is standing on the table in the middle of the room, surrounded by basically everyone in the house. He’s only wearing boxers but that isn’t out of the ordinary. What stands out is that his entire upper body is littered in handprints. It looks like a crazy paint concoction has been poured on everyone’s hands who then stamped them all over Louis’ body.

They seem to be having a proper good time,  everyone is busy laughing and many of them only notice Harry’s presence after Louis greets him.

Niall is one of the few who does notice.

“Haz, your boy’s wicked!" he barks, and the sound he's making would put dogs to shame.

“I know,” Harry smirks coyly, standing in the doorway with arms crossed in front of his chest. His eyes sweep through the entire scene just to land on Louis again. They share a small secret smile, only broken by an obnoxiously loud laugh. Harry turns just in time to catch Niall lose his balance from laughing so hard.

There's a loud screech and excessive swearing in Irish. Liam is the closest to Niall and the first one to react. He kneels up on the couch and looks behind to see if Niall is okay. They all wait with bated breath, then Liam gives a thumbs up and everyone goes back to what they were doing before.

Harry’s attention returns to Louis.

“This spot’s for you!” Louis leisurely shouts across the room, somewhat unbothered by Niall’s clumsiness. He shows his painted chest proudly, turning around so Harry doesn't miss anything. Harry feels a blush creep up on his face when his back muscles and boxer-clad arse are on display. _God. Louis is unfairly perfect._

Harry only then remembers that Louis mentioned some kind of spot. He doesn't have a clue what kind of _spot_ that might be. He raises his hands in the air and shrugs at Louis in confusion. Louis smiles and points at his own heart.

Only then does Harry tilt his head to the side and looks at him a bit closer, now not failing to notice that Louis’ heart is paintless.

 _This spot’s for you_ suddenly makes much more sense.  

The room breaks out in several versions of “awww’s” and “ooh’s” and Harry can't help but agree and if he wasn't already head over heels, moon and back and arse over teakettle in love with the boy, then this gesture would for sure secure his devotion for eternity.        

When Louis jumps off the table and starts walking towards him the crowd parts like the Red Sea did for Moses.

He walks like a panther when it's about to catch its prey, keeping intense eye contact with him the whole time. And oh boy does he have Harry's attention when he's openly flirting with him.

And it's not like Harry’s acting shy. His eyes roam over Louis’ toned body unabashedly. He allows a smirk to show his appreciation, only for a short time though because he'd rather roll his eyes. Who's he kidding though? He's blushing like a teenager.

_That spot is mine._

When Louis is close enough to touch he lifts his hand to Harry’s waist but Harry bats his hand away.

“Hey they’re clean.” Louis protests, voice filled with hurt.

“Ugh, sorry then.” Harry reaches out to grab Louis’ hand and place it on his waist, right where it belongs but Louis keeps his hands firmly crossed over his chest.

Harry pouts.      

Louis steps closer to him, eyes narrow. “ _Now_ you want me to put them back, of course you do,” Louis shrieks mock-offended. He even has the audacity to scoff. “You want my love and eternal devotion _now_ but you didn’t even glance in my direction when you thought I was poor. I’m wounded, Harold!” He’s pressing both his hands against the spotless skin at his heart like the dramatic hoe he is and takes a few stumbling steps back, feigning a heart attack.        

Harry looks around and sees that everyone is watching Louis with an amused expression, including him.        

The thing with Louis is that he’s funny by nature. And not just _funny._ There are people who think they’re funny and there’s Louis Tomlinson who doesn’t only _know_ he’s funny, he’s bloody right. He always manages to pull something new with perfect timing and if you think someone can run out of crazy ideas then you never met Louis Tomlinson.        

The _Louis show_ hasn’t ended yet, and Louis' reminds him with a not so subtle cough. Harry has to refrain himself from rolling his eyes and being the little shit he is and waits a few beats before turning his gaze back at Louis.        

“This heart was beating for you and you didn’t even color it! Been protecting it with a silver sword, sacrificing sweat, blood and money and horses, and even though everyone wanted a piece of this fine chest, I swatted all the suitors away just to leave it to you, who it belonged to and you treat it like this? How very ungrateful of you!”        

 _The fucking theatrics really._ _Does he believe a single word he just uttered?_          

Harry does roll his eyes this time and shakes his head, but fails to hide his smile. He takes a quick stride and closes the gap, gently grabs Louis’ waist which isn’t the smartest idea because all caution aside, he ends up covered in paint.        

He doesn’t find it in himself to care anymore. 

“Stop molesting me!” Louis whines but Harry knows all too well it’s part of the show. Louis practically purrs when Harry’s fingers wrap around his waist, thumb gently rubbing along the naked skin.        

Harry pulls him in by the hip and drops a long sweet kiss on his lips. Louis releases a contented hum as he melts into Harry's body. Harry releases his waist and rests his fingers on his neck, thumb ghosting up and down the nape.          

Their audience chants “ _kiss kiss kiss."_

Not wanting to get teased for popping a boner from a single kiss, Harry pulls apart reluctantly, face flushed.

Louis seems to get the memo and gently sucks on Harry’s bottom lip, before he releases it with a loud smack.        

He buries his head in Harry’s shoulder. “You done meditating?” he whispers in a soft voice.

Harry’s body tenses up and he bites his upper lip so hard, he's almost drawing blood. His head meets Louis’ shoulder in embarrassment and his hands drop from Louis’ hair to cover his own reddening face.  

It’s one thing to do this sort of meditation and have much deserved _me-time,_ but it’s a whole other thing to realize that Louis is well aware that Harry has this _thing_ for being left alone with his thoughts.

His _thing_ is certainly something to be teased for.      

“Hey, none of that,” Louis whispers and gently reaches for Harry’s elbows and pulls his hands from his face. He entwines their fingers and pins them to Harry’s side before he leans in caging Harry's body as if Harry was a wild animal wanting to escape.

As if he knew Harry contemplated doing the same.

Louis _knew_ it.        

Harry waits a few seconds and lets out a couple of deep breaths before he opens his eyes to meet blueblueblue.

Louis smiles at him and strokes his chin with his thumb. “I love that about you,” he whispers.

Harry sucks in a sharp breath. _I love._

Louis brushes his lips in a tender kiss. “That you dig deeper than the surface.” He gives another chaste kiss on the mouth and pulls apart.

Harry grabs his neck and pulls him right where he belongs.

Their tongues sweep lazily exploring each other’s mouths. Harry’s shoulders relax and Louis lets out a deep breath that sounds much like relief, as if Harry being distressed would make _him_ distressed.

Harry opens his legs a little and pulls him impossibly closer. Louis hums contentedly when Harry begins rubbing his back.

Harry’s fingers ghost down the exposed skin before heading more south and palming Louis’ arse.     

“Get a fucking room goddammit,” someone yells.

_Well, that’s only fair._

Louis drags him out of the door by the elbow but first he makes sure everyone becomes familiar with his raised middle finger.

He releases him once they’re outside. Harry slides his hands on Louis’ waist, grip loosening with every new giggle. They echo in the empty corridor as they walk.

“We’ll be kicked out in no time.” Harry hisses between two breaths. “In a few days we won’t have a bloody friend here because they hate to see us boyfriending all the time.”        

“Boyfriending? Mr Thesaurus what the fuck is boyfriending?” Louis teases.        

“Dunno, just sounded good.” Harry answers with a shrug.

Louis shakes his head, still smiling. “Gonna take a shower, yeah?” he asks when they enter their room.       

“Sure.” Harry leans down for a kiss before Louis makes his way to the bathroom.        

With a little bit of time on his hands, Harry contemplates watching some crappy reality TV in the common room while he waits. He’s about to leave the bedroom when he catches Louis’ head poking out of the bathroom door. 

Louis tips his head towards Harry’s chest. “I hope you were not wildly attached to that shirt of yours.” He winks and disappears inside before Harry has a chance to react.

 _Oh fuck._ The paint.

He pulls the shirt over his head and examines it. He touches the soft cotton and can’t help but smile at the many colors it's stained with. They look like a rainbow. Maybe he won't even wash it.

He’s definitely not washing it.

Now that he considered the issue solved he stretches to grab his phone on the nightstand and rests his head against the headboard. He unlocks it and begins fiddling with it.       

The display is broken. He lifts his phone with furrowed brows. He slowly moves it around, examining it in all angles. _Hmm, interesting._

The display _is very much not broken._ What the--        

And then it hits him.

 _That bastard._        

Louis changed his phone's background to a picture of a smashed phone screen! _Classic._

Harry already feels the sweet satisfying taste of revenge on his tongue. If only he had some black and green face paint he would use it to go with his warrior mood.        

That visual actually gives him an idea for the perfect retaliation. He just has to get back to the common room real quick before Louis gets out of the bathroom. _Easy._

He makes it back in time and waits at the bathroom door with bated breath. Louis should’ve been prepared, because while he was the best at this at times, even the best can get beaten at his own game.

_Splash._

Harry is sure Louis didn't plan to take a second shower, but that's exactly what he has to do after getting assaulted by his very own boyfriend whose hands were covered in bloody red paint.

_Payback is a bitch._

The water runs for the second time, Louis’ curses are getting louder and Harry is laughing so hard that he almost falls of the bed.

Louis steps out carefully, and Harry raises his hands in the air, showing him he’s safe from grabby hands and another attack.

He settles into his bed and shakes his head in disbelief, a smile making its way at the corner of his lips. “You dork, your handprints looked like a crooked red heart.”

Louis kisses him until Niall threatens to hit him with his guitar if they don’t stop with the _bloody kissing noises._

They're both stubborn shits but learned to choose their battles wisely and the thought of being hit in the head by heavy instruments with strings is enough even for their stubborn arses to admit defeat.

Before doing so Louis makes drops two more pecks on Harry’s lips. Then the two kisses become three and more and the next thing they hear is Niall grabbing his pillow noisily before he leaves.

Everything goes perfectly, after that. Louis sits into Harry's lap, unhurried now that they have all the time in the world. They kiss lazily, then the innocent kisses turn to kisses with intent. There’s caressing, and stroking, tongue and a whole lot. _A whole lot._

And that's when it happens. _God._

Harry jolts up so quickly that Louis almost falls, and drops on Liam’s bed and hides.

He fucking hides.

 

*

 

“Are you really not gonna talk to me?” Louis asks, amused as he scoots closer patting the Harry-sized body that’s hiding under the covers.        

“No.” comes the muffled voice under the duvet.        

“Ever? Like ever ever?” Louis sings.        

“Not funny, Lou.” Harry peeks at him, his hair resembles to a bird’s nest from staying under the blanket for so long.        

Louis combs his fingers through Harry’s curls and plays with the strands, twists them around his finger and watches as the springy bits fall. “You have to admit it’s pretty funny H. You know you’re not the first person who got a b-”        

“Don’t say it.”        

“--oner.”        

Louis presses his hands against his mouth as soon as Harry’s comment reaches his brain but it’s already too late. He stares at Harry with wide eyes.        

Harry groans and drops his head on the pillow before he disappears under the cover again.

“It’s--” Louis sighs, not knowing how to go on. “Would it help if you knew I had one too?”       

Harry’s curls appear from underneath the covers again. He lifts his head and rests his chin on the pillow, frowning. “How can you be so chilled about this?”        

Louis snorts. “Because it’s the most natural thing that can happen to the male body.”

“But--”

“--And are you really asking me this? I’ve been practically digging a hole into my palm to stop myself from jumping your bones--”

“Okay but,---”

Louis points a finger at Harry’s chest. “---No buts. You’ve been flouncing around naked  almost every day so if there’s anyone being tempted here that’s me.”

“Okay. True.” Harry murmurs.

“You really are something else, love,” Louis adds, tone soft. He can practically _hear_ Harry pouting. He scoots closer to him reaching for the closest body part and plants a loving kiss on his uncovered left arm. “Don’t be shy, okay?”  

The Harry-sized cover moves next to him.

Louis rolls out of the bed. “I have an idea.” He tiptoes his way to the floor-to-ceiling closet and starts rummaging around the random objects. He looks behind him and catches Harry’s head poking from under the cover.

He feels Harry's burning gaze on himself but leaves it without comment.

Instead he turns his attention back to his luggage.“Where the f-” he curses and kicks the luggage back in the closet. He only has one more place to search for, otherwise he's out of ideas. He stretches up on his tiptoes, shirt rolling up in the process and reaches for the plastic bag on the shelf above his. There it is. It's so bloody high that he has to stand on the edge of his toes to reach it.  

Harry groans. “This isn’t funny Lou.”

Louis is still chuckling when he’s fishing for the contents of the plastic bag.      

“A teddy bear?” Harry chuckles, amused. “All this time you’ve been hiding a teddy bear here and I didn't know about it?"

“Not just _any_ teddy bear.” Another one appears in his hands. “It’s two teddy bears, Harold. Got one each from Fiz and Lots, my good luck charms.”

Harry smiles back as his eyes roam over him. Louis understands he must be a real vision standing there holding two rainbow colored bears with a cocked out hip.   

“That tiny one fits in my pocket!” Harry beams and points at the smaller bear.

“No one puts my bears in pockets. And he’s _not_ tiny.” He protests and walks back to the bed with his two companions.

He sits the bigger bear close to Harry’s face. “Harold, say hi to Bearold.”        

Harry sits up and places the duvet in his lap to cover his crotch. Louis resists to roll his eyes and pushes the bear closer.

“Hi back.” Harry says raising an eyebrow.

“You see, our little Bearold is afraid of talking about a few things.” Louis places the tiny bear next to the bigger one. “And this here is Loubear. He’s a good listener.”  

Louis stops for a moment to look at Harry, hoping he hasn’t crossed a line. He feels relief washing over him when Harry smiles back at him happily. “So, Bearold. Let’s talk about the beanis.” Louis starts on a thin voice.

Harry buries his face in his hand. “Oh no, you didn’t just go there.”       

“How do you want to do it then?” Louis chuckles.        

“Keep the bears but no beanis or beaner or any _embearassing_ talk please.”        

“And you didn’t just use three bear puns.”        

“I did.” Harry beams, dimples denting his left cheek.        

“You’re incorrigible.” Louis shakes his head, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“I’m ready.”

“Okay, go on then.”        

Panic settles on Harry’s face. “No, you start it. Please.”

“But you just told me to shut up.”

“Yes, with the bear talk. But not completely.”  

Louis waits a heartbeat. “Oh, okay. So. How do you want to do this Haz?”       

“I don’t know, maybe ask questions. Or like.. have Loubear ask questions from Bearold.”

Louis’ face turns serious. “Are you fantasizing about me in a sexual way?”        

Harry presses his face in the pillow. “Too much, too soon,” he grumbles.      

“Okay. Erm. Do you want to go on further than kissing?”

“Yeah.” Harry whispers and lowers the pillow from his face, eyes still avoiding Louis’.

“How much further?” Louis asks but Harry just blushes. “Have you gone all the way with anyone?” Louis whispers.        

“Yeah.”

Louis swallows. “Oh, yeah?”    

Harry’s brows bump together in a scowl. “But it was messy and quick and embarrassing,” he adds quickly.

“But did you like it?” Louis presses further.

“She was a nice girl and I got off so I can’t say I didn’t but it’s--. Listen.. with boys it will be different.”        

Louis feels something sour in his mouth. He raises one eyebrow at Harry. “Boys?”

Harry frowns. “Yeah.”        

“As in plural?”        

Recognition settles on Harry’s face. “Come on Lou. You know how I meant it.”

“No, as a matter of fact I don't. You just told me you want to sleep with boys in plural instead of simply saying _boy_ or _me_ and it bloody sucks hearing it.”        

Harry sits up straighter and takes Louis’ hands. “Lou. I want it with _you,_ okay? I don’t want it with any other boy, or boys.”        

Louis lets his shoulders sag as he releases a frustrated sigh. “I want it with you too.”        

“Good.” Harry’s thumb caresses Louis’ knuckles.        

“But if we’re really doing this, we’re gonna go slow.” Louis says biting his bottom lip.        

“Okay.” Harry nods slowly. “Slow is good. I guess.” He ponders for a moment, catching a loose thread on the blanket. “How slow?”      

“I don’t know. When we’re both ready, I guess. Weeks? Months, maybe.”

Harry’s thumb stops. He whips his head up at Louis. “Months? You want to wait for months to have sex with me?”        

“To go all the way, yes.”  

“But why? D-do you not want me?” Harry whispers, eyes widening.        

Louis looks at him incredulously. “Did you not hear me when I told you I can barely stop myself from jumping your bones?”        

Harry frowns and pouts his lips. “Then what? Why wait?”

“Harry please.”

The frown melts from Harry’s face and is replaced by traces of anger. “Don’t _Harry please_ me, this is important.”        

“Well, it’s bloody important to me as well and that’s why we’re gonna wait.”        

“This concerns me as much as it does you.”

“And it concerns _me_ just as much and I’d really like you to respect my decision.”        

“I want to negotiate my terms.”

“You can negotiate them all you want but I’m not going to change my mind.”        

“Fine.” Harry crosses his arms against his chest.

“Jeez, you’re acting like a bloody five year old.”

“Because you’re making me feel like one!”

“Well, I’d rather make you feel like a five year old than to force sex on you.” Louis raises his voice.

“Force?” Harry snorts a laugh. “What are you talking about? I just told you I want it. That's not forcing.”

“You’re sixteen.”

“Yes, thank you for the daily reminder.”

“Why do you have to be an arse about this? I said I want to wait for the first time, I didn't say I don’t want to touch you or that I’m not attracted to you. Stop twisting my words, Harry. You're being fucking unfair. ”

“ _I’m_ being unfair?”        

“Yes you are!”        

“You know what, I’m just-- I'm just gonna leave now.”

“You can’t be seri--” Louis cuts himself off as he watches Harry’s retreating back. He lets out a deep sigh before plopping back like a broken doll. They’re arguing over fucking sex. Not over whose turn is to take the trash down or which movie to watch. Nope. Over sex.

 

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears someone sigh. It doesn't take long to know who it is, given he can recognize that familiar deep voice anytime. He squints an eye open and sees Harry still standing in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to another, face unreadable.

Louis hasn't realised he never left. He sits up straighter and scoots over to the wall creating an unusual distance between them. He clutches his hand on his knee, only taking occasional glances at Harry. He can feel his heart rabbiting and his breath quickens.

Harry ambles towards him, knee hitting the bed with a low thump. He waits a beat and settles down on the edge, tucks his hands into his lap, keeping his head down, seemingly lost in thought. He leans forward and picks up the bigger bear which Louis has tossed away.

He then places the bear in Louis’ lap.

“Is Loubear here?” he asks quietly, voice heavy as if he has been crying himself.

After a beat Louis reaches for the smaller bear under the duvet and passes it to Harry, not caring if he catches it or not. The mattress dips beside him and he feels the soft plush brush against his skin.

Louis looks at the stuffed tiny hand as Harry presses the bear to his open palm.

Bearold hops to him and is now face to face with Loubear. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said the things I said but--” Harry cuts himself off suddenly and lies the bear on the bed as if he doesn’t need it anymore.

He lifts his gaze back at Louis, expression determined. “I didn’t mean it okay? You’re not turning me into a five year old, fuck, it’s me who really acted like one. I’m sorry for pushing you, I shouldn’t have.”

Louis sighs. “Harr--”

Harry raises a finger. “I know you don’t want to rush it and maybe someday you’ll share your fears and your reasons why--”

Louis opens his mouth to speak but Harry’s finger pressing lightly against his knee changes his mind.

“But I don’t want you to think you _have_ to share it with me. I respect you so much and I accept your decision now, but I should’ve accepted it immediately and I’m so sorry.” He ventures forward just to land in Louis’ lap. Louis wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him closer by the hip.

Harry doesn’t miss a beat and goes willingly, tilting his head to capture Louis’ lips in a dainty kiss.

Louis leans back against the wall and just takes it.

Harry pulls back to take a breath and looks him in the eye. “You’re amazing, you know?” he mumbles, gaze flicking between Louis’ eyes and lips.

Louis doesn’t know what to say, he was never good with compliments, especially when they come from Harry so he just grabs Harry’s neck and kisses him sweetly. “I don’t want to turn into a story,” he mumbles against his lips.

“What?” Harry pulls away with a frown. “Why would you turn into a story?”

“Because, it’s.. It’s the first time, you know? First times are messy and sloppy and embarrassingly bad, like one of the biggest regrets a person can have, you know? And you’re gonna be thirty and you’ll be with your friends, laughing your arse off when thinking about how bad your first time was.”

“I get it,” Harry starts slowly, “but I had my first time already. You have nothing to worry about, Lou.”

“Not with a man.”

“Do you want me to have my first time with another man so I can share embarrassing stories about him and then sleep with you for the rest of eternity?”

Louis pinches him in the arm. “Don’t you dare.”

“You should see yourself now.” Harry teases, failing to stifle a smile.

“What I meant to say before I was rudely interrupted,” He throws a pointed look at Harry before his voice turns serious again, “is that I don’t want you to regret it, okay?” Harry parts his lips to speak but Louis places a finger on his lips. “I know what you want to say but let me finish, okay?” Harry nods and Louis drops his hand to his side. “If you turn seventeen and you still want me to be your first, then I’m all yours. Fuck, I already am if you’re wondering. I really am. Besides, what difference do a few months make?”

“I think you’re right.”

“And you know, sex is so much more than just bum stuff.”

“So we can…...? Do other things?”        

“Yeah.”        

“You want to?”

“Mhmmm.” Louis mumbles against Harry’s lips. “Do you even know the technicalities?” he pulls back before their lips brush.        

“I’ve watched enough porn to do it, so yes.” Harry darts out his tongue and draws a wet line on Louis’ upper lip.

Louis pulls away for a beat. “I see we don’t need the bears to have you open up about sex anymore.”        

Harry buries his reddening cheek in Louis’ shoulder. “I guess we don’t.”

They continue kissing until they're disrupted by the boys coming in. Harry takes the opportunity and showers while Louis plays Smurfs to pass time.

 

#### *

 

“Give a man a bloody warning!” Louis screeches and splays his left hand to cover his eyes. Thankfully Harry doesn’t comment that he’s peeking from behind this fingers.

Amusement twinkles in Harry’s eyes as he walks up to him. “‘Am not even naked Lou.” He captures Louis’ lips.

Louis still has his eyes covered while he keeps pretending he isn’t peeking.

“Enjoying yourself?” the bastard asks and Louis wants to wipe that smug grin off his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Louis retorts, still standing stubbornly frozen, because he hates being caught.

Harry’s pulling him in a tight embrace, as if challenging him to drop his hands and hug him back.

Louis isn’t one to refuse hugs, especially the ones from Harry so he decides it’s time to stop the charade and melts his body into Harry’s.

Harry’s _.still.wet.body._ “You’re wet.” Louis scrunches his nose for good measure and takes a step back.     

“That’s what happens with people under the shower. They get wet.”        

“Wet, huh?”

Harry steps closer. “Yeah.” His voice is breathless, gaze intense, as if he’s getting lost in Louis’ eyes. “Water gets wet.” He muses as he bends down to kiss Louis.

“Shut up, you’re making it worse.” Louis tugs a hand in Harry’s hair and pulls him down to kiss him back with a smile. He pokes Harry on the chest with his index finger. “And for the record, I don’t think people would appreciate my permanent boner, which I’m afraid would be a thing if you were walking around naked.”

Harry pouts. “Aww too bad it would be nice.”

“Really, Harold?” he scoffs and continues his assault, drawing invisible circles on Harry’s waist. Harry bends his body giggling and reaches for Louis’ hands. “You’re the only human being who uses _nice_ and _boner_ in the same sentence.” Louis yanks him down by the hair to keep the kiss going, arms laced around Harry’s neck who in return pulls him closer in a tight embrace. Louis’ nose nuzzles Harry’s neck and that’s when---

“What the blood-”

“Did you just sniff me?” Harry asks, tone incredulous.

“No.”

“You so did!”

“Did not!”

“I heard it!”

“You heard it wrong and wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

Harry beams. “Mum’s care package arrived this morning. It’s my Lush Brightside Bubble Bar, if you’re interested.”

Louis pinches Harry’s arm and walks to the bed. “It smells weird.”

“No it doesn’t.” Harry pouts.

Louis flops down on the bed and rests his head against the headboard. His gaze sweeps through Harry’s half-clad body and the smugly wrapped towel around his waist. He’s sure Harry purposefully sat it dangerously low just to show hints of his happy trail and to drive Louis mad.

An appreciative smirk appears on Louis’ lips at the sight. It wasn't a particularly bad idea per se.  

Harry’s groan breaks his trance. Right. His heavenly scented bubble bar still hasn’t been acknowledged.

Harry pops his hips left and right proving the absolute need for choreographers. He’s shaking his hips and it’s an absolute mess. “ _Come on, taste it_ ” he begins singing the made-up song and wiggles his eyebrows exaggeratedly. Louis can’t help but throw his head back in laughter. _"You know you want it"_ Harry’s voice comes even closer _"Lick it. Lick it"_ , he licks his own index finger suggestively, then brushes the same fingertip along his chest seductively.

Louis is begging Harry to stop.

The dance stops quicker than expected but the smirk Harry still wears makes Louis realize he isn’t off the hook just yet.

“You want me to stop?” Harry asks wetting his bottom lip.

“Yes, just stop it please!” Louis croaks, out of breath.

“Okay I sto-”

“Thank go-”

“On one condition.”

“Absolutely not!”

Harry raises one eyebrow.

Louis locks his gaze on him stubbornly, watching him getting dangerously close to the very bed he’s lying on.

Harry reaches him and sits down at the end of the bed. He looks into Louis’ eyes with intent.

Louis swallows audibly.

Harry gently pushes Louis’ legs open then lifts one leg and the other unhurriedly. He positions himself dangerously close to Louis’ crotch, so close that Louis has to bite his bottom lip and force his eyes closed.

Harry leans down and lets his fingers trail an excruciating slow line, burning Louis’ outer thighs. He looks up at Louis with raised eyebrows “Did I hear a moan?” His voice is so turned on, so fucked, dear god, that Louis is not going to fucking last.

Louis shakes his head, hair blowing in the movement. As if.

They both know he’s lying.

Harry parts his thighs for better access and begins crawling up his waist. He halts and pulls Louis up in a sitting position and lets his fingers fumble with the bottom of his shirt. The next thing Louis hears is the thud his t-shirt makes as it lands on the floor.

Harry grabs him and pins him down by the shoulders, Louis’ naked back meeting with the soft duvet with a swoosh. Harry leans down and wakes up Louis’ sleeping skin with strategically placed open-mouth kisses teasing the living hell out of him. Louis is sure his lips are red from how hard he’s biting them while trying to hold back his reaction, refusing to surrender even if this is the last thing he does on Earth.

That one moan doesn’t count, of course.

Harry’s sinful lips venture towards his chest, slender body is lying on top of Louis, fitting like puzzle pieces, touching at all the right places. The bastard even lifts his crotch to make sure their clothed cocks brush for a moment, the friction making Louis elicit a low moan. Harry inches his tongue on the top of Louis’ waistband and licks a wet trail up his chest, leaving Louis’ body trembling. He snakes up and brushes his tongue against Louis’ neck before digging his teeth into the flesh.

Louis hisses at the contact. The bloody vampire bit him.

Harry stops for a moment to admire his work while all Louis wants is to punch him. Harry leans back and licks on the angry red spot tenderly to soothe the pain. He peeks up at Louis to check on him and Louis looks at him, mesmerized but as soon as his gaze meets Harry’s he closes his eyes, not giving him the satisfaction.

Harry leans forward and places a slow sensual kiss on his closed eyelids, then on his nose, his cheeks, peppering slow kisses down his jaw.

“Do it,” Harry demands, his tone authoritative.

Louis squints one eye open, completely forgetting for a moment that Harry wants something from him.

“Do wha-- you want me to lick your chest?” he asks, tone incredulous. “I’m not gonna lick your chest Harry! And stop with that bloody pout.”

Harry blinks down at him innocently, grinding his hips against him again, their clothed lower bodies rubbing but not enough to create the friction Louis' is chasing. He rocks his hips up experimentally once, but Harry pins his sides down with a firm grip on his waist.

“Uh-uh.”

Louis feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin in frustration. “I’m not gonna lick your fucking chest.” he grits out.

“Oh, you will.” Harry replies in a deep voice and looks at him like a predator to its prey. Louis knows he’s fucked. Not literally. And that is the prob----- he lets out another growl at Harry licking up his sides, body shivering.

He contemplates his chance at getting out and starts twitching his body, pulling out of the hold Harry has on his waist, but it’s a terrible idea and a weak attempt to say at least because Harry’s grip becomes impossibly firm on his waist. Harry then has his vendetta as he starts grinding their crotches together so hard that Louis sees stars.

“It’s not working.” Louis grunts between his pursed lips but Harry knows him too well. He knows bloody well that Louis is hardly able to contain his moan because the friction feels bloody amazing.

Harry darts his tongue out and licks a wet patch on Louis’ bottom lip which opens in instinct.

_Damn you, body._

“Sure it’s not?” his voice is so deep and sensual that if he doesn’t shut up Louis would come in his pants like a bloody thirteen year old. Harry licks his upper lip and plants a kiss on Louis’ bottom lip before he sucks it in. He lifts his index finger, Louis’ eyes following the motion “because if I’m not mistaken, this…” and teasingly slowly runs it up and down Louis’ inner thigh, “is defin-”.

Louis jumps up with such force that he accidentally knocks Harry away. Fortunately Harry manages to keep his balance and for his own sake and safety he chooses to sit in the far edge of the bed. He blinks up at Louis with a pleased smile which shows exactly how much he’s enjoying himself. Harry’s eyes land on Louis’ poking bulge.

“This is cold blooded murder! Me popping a boner has nothing to do with that bloody citrus bubbly whatever.”

“Brightside Bubble Bar. Easy to remember: 3 B’s.”

Louis folds his arms across his chest. “Whatever. Your morals are questionable. Seduction wasn’t in the rules. I demand a rematch, Styles.”

“Who said there were rules?”

“Harold.”

“Lewis.”

“No.”

_“Yes.”_

“I hate you.”

“Just lick my bloody chest!”

“Alright, alright bloody hell!”

Louis reaches for Harry, and pulls him in his lap, hard. When they're in sitting position Louis scrunches his nose in mock disgust and slowly leans up to Harry’s chest. He pokes his tongue out and licks his chest, breaking the contact after a nanosecond.

Harry has the audacity to roll his eyes.

Louis yanks Harry’s body away before he abruptly stands up and struts in the direction of. Well, nowhere.

Just out of that bloody bed.

He feels Harry’s gaze follow his every movement with the intensity that it's burning a hole in his back.

“Okay it tastes like a fucking lime tree and I love it! Now let me leave while my pride is still intact!” he yells.

Harry guffaws and tips his head back, ending up falling backwards on Louis’ bed.

“When you’re quite finished we have jobs to do.”

Harry glances down at Louis’ bulge, smirking at the innuendo.

Louis throws his shirt in Harry’s direction. “Not _that_ kind of job, you pervert!” He so wanted to get off, desperately needing a wank but now he wouldn’t allow it on principle. He will think about grandma panties and stinking nappies instead.

Sure thing.

Harry beckons him to steal a kiss and Louis leans down, allowing himself to taste him.

“It wasn’t that difficult now, was it?” Harry whispers in his ear and to get the message across he slaps Louis’ arse.

Louis’ eyes widen as he releases a high pitch shriek. He’s jumping up, startled and lifts his fingers to rub his throbbing backside with exaggerated movements, muttering _I hate you._

Harry snorts. “Keep telling it to yourself” he whistles, running up to his own bed to pick up jeans and a ratty t-shirt. “Rehearsal in teeen,” he yells on his way out.

“Bloody tease!” Louis mutters.

It’s good to have younger siblings. First of all it makes a family bigger and big is good. Second of all, it will be easy peasy to imagine nappies and their horrendous smell to stop annoying boners.

 

*

 

It isn’t easy peasy. In fact, soundcheck feels like pure hell.

He’s so hard that he can't pay attention to a single word of Savan's, he's too busy fidgeting in his seat, trying to hide his boner. Thankfully the lads are too busy _singing_ to take a closer look at him. Unlike Harry.

Boy does he watch him.

Ogling him so fucking unabashedly that it drives Louis mad. It’s a fucking miracle that no one notices.

“We’re off. Louis you coming?” Zayn nudges him on the side. Bloody hell, is the rehearsal already over?

He wants to fucking laugh because no, he’s definitely not _coming,_ not if it depended on Harry.

“Yeah, are you coming Lou?” Harry’s asking him and good lord his gaze is so intense that Louis has to grab the edge of his seat.

He clears his throat. “I.. I’m.. no.”

“You need a throat lozenge, mate?” Niall offers.

Louis shakes his head and Harry barks out a laugh. The bastard.

“Wait, I think I have something.” Liam says, fishing in his pocket.

“I _definitely_ have something for his throat.” Harry interjects.

Louis leaves the room faster than the fucking Apollo during its launch. He _knows_ Harry follows him but he rushes inside the adjacent bathroom to their room and leans against the wall, breathing hard.

He wants, wants, wants, wants Harry and it’s making him insane.

He can feel more than hear Harry enter the bathroom. His head peeks from the slightly ajar door. They look at each other, both gasping for air.

Harry looks so innocent as he stands there biting and licking his lips.

They don’t speak which is maybe not too bad because Louis isn’t sure he’d be able to utter coherent words.

It’s Harry who moves first. He steps between Louis’ legs and leans in, caging him in. “I want you,” he whispers and Louis’ legs are positively trembling at this point.

“We c-can’t.” He croaks out and places his open palms against the cold tiles, safely tucked next to his body because otherwise he’s afraid he’s gonna attack Harry right then and there. He can’t though. Can’t. No matter how much he wants to bury himself in Harry. He. Can’t.

He still fights it when Harry licks his lips and lets one finger trace a long line starting from his lip, to his jaw, all the way through his neck, stopping at his Adam’s apple then it goes down down, further, further. It's too much and not enough at the same time.

He can only hear the whoosh of his t-shirt as it lands on the floor. God. Harry's quick. He gulps. He’s losing his restraint, he has to touch, _needs_ to touch.

“Whatever you’re giving me. I want it.” Harry rasps out. He looks at Louis so openly, so ready. For whatever Louis decides is okay. He's letting Louis make the decision.

If asked later, Louis would probably say that was the point when he thought _fuck it._

_~~~~~~~~~~~_

He nods slightly, and he isn’t finished yet, head still nodding when Harry’s lips are already smashed against his. His sweet tongue brushes against his lips and he’s giving entrance, he’d give anything to Harry in that moment. It’s fucking scary because he still has to pull the brakes and remind himself they can’t go all the way, but a voice in his head starts chanting _you can still play. Just a little._

He reaches for Harry’s jeans and touches underneath the waistband of his boxers.

Harry hisses, eyes getting darker and begging for more.

Louis can give him that.

He undoes the fly and pulls the boxers down to free Harry’s beautiful pink cock. He’s just as hard as Louis, already leaking pre-come. Louis takes him in his hand and starts pumping him. Harry is absolutely losing it, his pupils are dilated, his fingers are clutching against Louis’ waist so hard that Louis’ sure he’s going to leave marks.

He doesn’t mind one bit. Not when he can look at Harry like this, not when he’s _allowed_ to see Harry like this. Completely wrecked.

Louis did that.

And he wants more, he wants to see Harry shatter and come undone in his hands, he wants him to release and see how his face looks like, what kind of noises he makes. He wants to taste Harry. God. Does he want to taste him.

He doesn’t want to tease Harry any longer, he knows he’s already on edge. He drops on his knees, coming face to face with that beautiful cock. He wraps his hand around it, keeps pumping him in a way that the tip bumps against his lip. He licks at the tip eagerly and takes as much of Harry as he can.

“Fuck.” Harry moans, burying his hand in Louis’ hair.

Encouraged, Louis starts bobbing his head, putting him in his mouth as much as he can, hand circling what his mouth can’t.

“Wait.” Harry rasps out.

Louis stops and looks up at him. He never in a million years thought it would be Harry pulling the brakes. But he is. “Oh.” He stands up slowly.

“No, I---I..” Harry seems to be catching for breath. “Can I?” He points towards the tent in Louis’ jeans.

OH. Oh. Ohhhhhhhhh.

“Y-Yeah.” Louis nods fervently and before he can utter another word Harry’s already on his knees, eyeing his hard cock against his stomach. It’s obscene, looking at him like that, half naked, and still what he wants is to pleasure Louis instead.

He opens Louis’ jeans hurriedly and before Louis can blink his cock is being sucked like never before. He has to steady himself against the wall because good lord. Harry’s really fucking good at sucking his brains out.

“God.” He pulls a few strands of Harry’s hair out of his face, so he can see him. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Harry looks up at him through his eyelashes, mouth full of cock, eyes teary, cheeks hollowed and the vision is making Louis’ knees buckle.

“I won’t-- last-- fuck. Long.” Louis stutters. Harry, takes it as a battle cry and sucks him even more fervently.

“Harry.” Louis warns and tries to pull him up by the hair, but Harry sucks relentlessly. Louis sees stars at this point. He can’t hold it longer and comes right into Harry’s mouth. Harry sucks him dry and has the audacity to lick his lips when he’s done.

Louis is going to wreck him. “Let me. Let me. Fuck.” He pulls Harry up and is about to reach for his cock when Harry takes his wrist and looks at him shyly.

“No need.”

_~~~~~~~~~~~_

Louis looks down. If he didn’t just come, he would right now. Harry came, just from _blowing him._ Louis’ knees buckle. His head falls on Harry’s chest and they slowly drop to the ground, limbs intertwined. Harry puts him comfortably in his lap and Louis’ arms wrap around Harry’s neck, head resting against his collarbones, breathing him in.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is my second fic ever and I already feel so much love for this, thank you so much! :) 
> 
> This chapter is going to be posted in two parts as it's 19K words long in itself. 
> 
> I don't think there's major tags needed, but just to be on the safe side: there'll be a bit of a panic attack/stage fright in this, although it's not described in a lot of details. If you have any issues reading such topic, let me know and I'll tell you where it's safe to read from.
> 
> Please keep giving civilized and constructive comments and kudos :):)  
> Gabi

"You can do it, come on!” Savan nudges Harry’s side encouragingly.          

“It’s too difficult, I hate this transition,” Harry mumbles, directing his gaze subtly towards the huge park that surrounds the contestants house. He can’t help but sigh longingly at the mere thought of being stuck on the second floor with his vocal coach while people, _his people_ are outside, enjoying the unusually warm late autumn.           

Instead he has to spend the better part of the day with Savan who decided to torment him. 

From the very moment he was woken up he’s feIt it was simply not his day. You know those days when you wake up and you just _know_ from the moment you open your eyes they'll suck?

It started out exactly like that.

If there’s one thing that makes him become a total insufferable twat it’s when he doesn’t get his good night’s sleep. To make things clear, that's exactly what happened, he's been missing on sleep tremendously. It makes him jumpy and unbearable which is pretty unfortunate when they all depend on each other, living together, even sleeping in the same room so he can’t just tell them to fuck off. No one was given the rule book on how to handle him in the morning or how to handle him _at all,_ really. He has to compromise and bend his rules a bit.          

Niall’s snores resembling to a wounded warthog kept him up almost all night and by the time he could finally fall asleep, Savan’s head popped up in the doorway.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started as he stepped in the room and Harry knew his day was _even more_ fucked. “I’ve listened to the raw recording we did the other day and something’s not right.”

Harry wanted to say 'Cool but can this conversation happen when it's not arse-o-clock in the morning?’

But the good boy he was kept his thoughts to himself.

Savan approached his bed carefully toeing his way forward. “We’re gonna change the arrangement.”

That sounded easy, right? Savan changing it a little bit, him acing it and then everyone can go back to sleep.

Solid plan.           

He pulled himself up and put on some clothes while trying to stifle a yawn. He found a discarded wrinkled t-shirt that was just perfect for the fifteen minutes he'll be with Savan. His socks weren’t matching either, but he could live with unmatching socks for _fifteen minutes._

Fifteen minutes, ha!           

Three hours passed since then and his unmatching socks turned out to be the least of his problems as he’s still stuck in the rehearsal room.

He’s tried to sing the lines the new way Savan wants him to but it doesn’t work.

“Can’t we just give it to Liam?” He mumbles looking down longingly from the floor-to-ceiling glass. Aiden pops into view with Niall, Louis, Liam and a few guys from the crew in tow towards the pitch.

Harry sighs.

He’d do pretty much anything for just five minutes outside and he doesn't even like football that much.

“Nope. Besides, Liam already has his lines.”   

Harry grunts. He rubs his cheek with so much force that he's sure the skin is turning red. “Can’t I sing it like we agreed to for the past _six_ days?”

The emphasis clearly isn't missed by Savan. “Harry. It’s my fault I came to you last minute, and for that I'm sorry mate but believe me when I say it’ll be much better with the new arrangement. I really think we can make it more original.”

Harry considers himself an understanding and flexible person, he really does but no matter how hard he tries he simply doesn’t understand his vocal coach’s sudden change of heart. First of all they’ve worked with renewed energy after the praise for _Kids In America_ and secondly they’ve already received compliments for this week’s song on their first rehearsal day. They’d practiced it for five days without any glitch and now of all times Savan changes his mind?           

It sounds plain cruel and Harry doesn’t understand it. Simple as that.

Blue team, aka three-fifths of One Direction plus Aiden, score and the boys jump onto each other’s necks.          

Savan knocks his knuckles sharply against the desk and stirs Harry’s attention back on him.

Harry reluctantly turns away from the scene to listen to him and finally get it right.           

“Nice save man!”

Cheerful voices cut in the silent room from outside, successfully distracting him. He shakes his head, trying to concentrate on the song.

Savan presses play.

Harry takes a deep breath before he starts singing.

_I need to tell you_

_How you light up every second of the day._

Savan nods and sways to the music, taking over Zayn’s part in the harmonization as Harry goes on.

_But in the moonlight._

_You just shine like a beacon on the bay_

“Go lower here. "But _in the moonliiiight",_ Savan sings. "Stretch it, then go much lower when you’re at _You shine."_

_But in the moonlight._

_You just shine like a beacon on the bay_

_“You fucker you kicked me!"_ That’s Niall’s voice from outside with the worst possible timing.

“ _Did not!"_ yells someone who Harry can't identify. If he could just sway a bit closer to the window.

“ _Did too!"_ Someone joins. That's Louis. Definitely Louis.   

“Stop.” Savan raises his palm and barrels to the window to close it, ridding Harry of the only contact with the outside world.     

Harry grips the sheet of paper tighter and shakes it as if strangling the offensive paper would miraculously resolve the problem. ”It’s not working! Why is it not working? We’ve been doing this for hours now!”

Savan reaches his desk and plops down on the chair with a sigh. “For the record I’m paid to help you do your best and if I have to push you for three hours straight to teach you how to be your best, then I’ll do that. But. That's my business. Stop caring about my time or how long we’ve been here, alright? Focus on the song.” He lifts his head at Harry. “Listen, it’s never gonna work if you don’t believe in yourself. I believe in you but I can’t believe in you _for you."_

“I do believe in myself, I just can’t sing that part. At least not the way you want me to.”     

“That’s not belief, Harry. That’s setting yourself up for failure.”    

Harry frowns. “I’m not. I’m trying.”           

Savan scoffs.           

“No, I really am trying.”           

“Yes, I can see that. But I don’t see confidence, Harry.”

“Well, it’s hard after I keep fucking it up for the hundredth time!”

"Then you'll try for the hundred and first! Or two hundred more times! If you give up you’re not going to be better than those people who want to be singers but never make it! You know very damn well who I’m talking about. Those people who Simon loves to make these dramatic claptrap videos about. They’re captivating but they disappear 99% of the time. Do you know why? They give up, Harry. Maybe they could be the most talented singers but they give up. Do you want to be like them? Do you want to give up, Harry?”     

“No.”

“Do you think Liam would be here if he had given up?”

“No!” Harry has to bite his bottom lip to force the tears back where they fucking belong.      

“I can see you’re trying but trying isn't gonna cut it mate. You’re good and you were given a chance, and now you have one, maybe two shots, if you’re lucky. But that’s it. You can’t build a castle from ' _he’s good'._ You need ‘ _Wait a minute who’s that guy. I want to write him a song.'_ They'll see you for what you show, Harry. And what do you think they’ll see when your entire posture screams defeat? They need to see that you believe in yourself, even if you’re shitting your pants on the inside, you know?

He walks up to Harry, expression determined. He pauses behind him, rests each palm on his shoulder blades and pulls his shoulders back. “Straighten your back. It’s not only going to cause you early back problems but your hunched back completely prevents oxygen from reaching the depths of your lungs.“

Once Harry complies and looks less monkey-like, Savan kicks the edges of his shoes to part his legs. “Jaws up, ass out.” Harry complies again. “Much better. Now, focus on your breathing.”

Savan presses one hand to Harry’s chest and the other against his back. “Deep breaths.” Harry peeks down at Savan’s hands moving in the same rhythm as his chest rises and falls with each breath. “In and out. In and out. Don’t rush it. Slower.” Harry pulls in a lungful of air and exhales it slowly as instructed. “Now, do you feel the air bursting out of your lungs? Feel the tension leave your body?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, indeed feeling slightly relieved.

“That’s how you breathe properly. You should look up some advanced breathing techniques. They can really help.”           

When Savan deems him relaxed enough to continue he sits back at the laptop and rubs his hands together. “Okay. Let’s start from the beginning of the second verse.”

Harry cracks his knuckles, tips his head left and right until a low cracking noise can be heard.           

“Ready?” Savan asks with an amused expression.

“Yes.”

_I need to tell you,_

_How you light up every second of the day._

He delivers those two lines perfectly, like always. Now comes the difficult part.

_But in the moonlight._

_You just shine like a beacon on the bay._     

Despite Harry’s effort Savan is still not satisfied.

“You could do it this easily,” he snaps a finger, “I know you can. But you’re concentrating too hard on not to fuck it up. Forget about your fear of fucking it up, Harry! I can hear your thoughts running in your head from three cities away. Stop thinking! Just sing!”           

_But in the moonlight._

“Let’s wrap up for now.”

 _You just--_    

Harry stops abruptly.

Savan pushes a few buttons on his phone. “You're up next for sound check, I want you to take a breather and start it with a clear head,” he offers on a soft tone.      

Harry steps out of the room and begins wandering around the house. The perfectionist in him is struggling way too much. He knows Savan is right and he has to get the anxiety out of his head but the more he thinks about it the more he sees the disappointed looks he’d receive if he botched it live.           

“Haz!” Louis appears in front of him as he turns the corner. He presses a thumb into Harry’s waist and pulls him closer nuzzling their noses together. “Been looking for you.”

“Well, I’m here. Good game?” Harry flinches, tone a little harsher than he intended.      

Louis’ bright smile disappears as a frown takes its place, seemingly not missing the implied _without me._ “Yeah,” Louis replies slowly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just--” Harry squeezes his eyes shut and starts massaging his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “I just can’t seem to get my line right.”

“C’mere.” Louis breathes softly. “Let me.” He bats Harry’s hands away and begins massaging his temple with the pad of his fingers. He pulls him closer and Harry slumps against him easily, keeping his eyes closed  humming contentedly.

“Can I help you with the song?” Louis asks in a soothing tone.

“You’re already helping,” Harry mumbles, still too lazy to open his eyes.

Louis stretches up on his tiptoes and lets his hands stray further on Harry’s scalp, running an invisible path at the root of his hair with the pad of his fingers. He waits until Harry falls completely pliant and ducks him down by the nape of his neck and plants a sweet slow kiss on his parted lips.

“More,” Harry groans fisting his hands against Louis’ t-shirt.

“Oi lovebirds stop whatever you’re doing,” They pull apart when they hear Zayn. “Soundcheck in ten. Where the hell are the others?”   

“I think they went back to change,” Louis replies.

“Okay, I will get them. You two, meet us backstage. And don’t be late!” Zayn shouts and disappears in the direction of their room. 

“Yes mum!” Louis yells after him.           

“And you don’t need to--” Harry lets his gaze wander to Louis’ abs then down his sweatpants slowly, “--take a shower?”           

Louis grabs Harry's chin and raises his head. “A picture lasts longer.”           

“I have plenty.”

Louis gulps as he stares at him.

“So?” Harry asks, hands stroking Louis’ tummy.

“Hm?” Louis asks, obviously distracted by Harry’s hands.

“No shower?”           

Louis snaps out of it. “I’m perfectly capable of playing football for twenty minutes without sweating, Harold. Now let’s go.”          

Harry leans into him and nods reluctantly before pulling away. His heart starts beating so fast at the thought of going on stage that he swears it’ll jump out of his ribcage.

Louis grabs his hand, entwines their fingers and looks deep into his eyes.

“Ready?”           

“Yeah.”

 

*

 

As expected, Liam sings his part effortlessly at sound check.

Then Harry opens his mouth, and messes it up.

“Start over.” Savan stops them.

After a few failed attempts from Harry's side Savan exchanges a look with Brian Friedman and Brian raises his hand.

“Take a step back.” he orders Harry. “We're gonna focus on your part only,” then turns towards the others. “Boys, take a breather.”

Despite Brian’s direct orders everyone stays rooted to their spot. The boys are supportive, bless them.

But there’s only so much they can do and the more times he tries and fails, more deep sighs follow and the initial genuine smiles turn strained.

Then to shovel more shit on the already huge pile, the stage manager’s assistant Cath appears on stage with the worst timing and starts to tap her index finger against her watch.

Harry tries to ignore her and focus on his line, he even turns so she's out of his sight but he fails and loses focus.

“Where are the dancers?” Cath asks.

Harry shifts his gaze on Brian right in time to catch him roll his eyes at her. “Are we really gonna argue about this again?”

“The dancers learned their routine.” She retorts staring him down.

“It's a slow song.”

This intermezzo is _not_ helping Harry. He would very much want them to leave stage and let him sing for God's sake. Four people’s fate depended on him and every moment wasted on the topic of bloody dancers meant losing the chance to perform perfectly tonight.

“The dancers stay.” Cath confirms.

“This isn't SYTYCD. It's a singing competition. Take it to Rob for all I care but we're on a timer here and I have seven more acts today and a live show tonight. Are we really going to argue about tiny details like dancers?”

“Fine,” she says barrelling off stage but it's more like _you'll be hearing from me._

Brian turns back to them and claps at Savan to continue.     

“Why can't we just switch?” Zayn starts. “Liam could sing the second verse and Harry the first.”

Harry appreciates the effort, he really does but this isn’t Zayn's battle to fight. And anyway, a last minute switch with Liam would be unfair of him.

The line stays his and he'd be okay with it if he was alone but he isn't and he doesn't want to drag these boys down with him. Which will undoubtedly happen if things don’t change drastically.

It’s all becoming too much.           

 _ToomuchToomuchToomuch._           

“Harry it was your turn, why didn’t you join?”

“We’re on a timer here.”           

“Something’s not right.”           

“Harry, you okay?”

“Haz, did you hear what I-- whoa what’s-- Harry?”           

Someone guides him holding his waist with a firm grip. “Sit here, okay?” It's Louis’ voice. He places his hand on Harry's knee.

“Lou, what’s with Haz?”

Harry hears his name being called but the voices sound distorted as if everyone was talking into an underwater megaphone. The more he looks the more stretched their heads are getting. He wants to tell them they are acting comically and bounces up from his seat to do that and that’s when it happens.

“I don’t know,” comes the voice from next to him. “Hey, love, breathe with me, okay? Harry. Haz, Hazza! Love, can you hear me?”         

The stage starts spinning, and the faces around him pop up and disappear like a morbid version of a merry-go-round.

He expects the dizziness to go away, only caused by the sudden standing up but it doesn’t go away. He feels bile come up his throat and swallows down the acidic taste on instinct. His limbs are shaking, his hold gives out and the lyric paper falls from his hand. He takes a step forward to pick it up, but loses his balance. He reaches out and grabs onto the closest thing to keep him upright and his fist comes in contact with Liam’s soft knitted sweater. He parts his lips to apologize for being a klutz but his throat constricts.           

He tries to swallow but can’t, it’s as if a dumpling of a size of a football got stuck in his mouth. He bends his head forward and lifts his jaw. It must seem comical how he tries to chase his own mouth and do the most natural thing and swallow, but it’s serious business to him.           

This can’t happen, he needs to sing. The band needs him! He stubbornly goes on and works himself up to the point that every time he so much as opens his mouth he feels a large hand press against his throat, suffocating him.

“He cannot perform like this.”           

“Haz, what’s happening?”

Harry feels the light press of a thumb on his shoulder and hears yelling. A lot of yelling, but he’s unable to identify the voices.

“ _Mate that’s a bit bloody insensitive, don’t you think? Keep rolling Matt. Get the fucking camera away! Can’t you see he’s sick? Savan do something! What’s happening to him? I’m about to faint. It’s okay Nialler, he’s in good hands. Brian you know he can’t perform like this. What’s going on here? Yeah I don’t wanna risk it. The entire studio is ringing of your yelling! What happened to him? I think it’s best if we have him sit this one out. We don’t know. Nerves probably. I need a chair. Someone get a chair. Will we have to change the order? And water. And air, he needs air. What’s going on here, Brian? Stage fright. Hey you. Yes you. Is that on? Why the fuck are you filming him? I don’t care who told you. You delete it now! Here, drink this. Slowly. Love, can you open your eyes? Will he be okay? Yes, he just got scared. I’ll sing his line. Yeah we’ll take it. What the bloody he--? Stage fright. Why do we have twenty people around him then? Please be okay. Everyone move! And who are you? Mate that shit has better be off. I don’t care about your bloody sob story! He’s clearly not feeling well! I told ya if you’d just listened t--. Niall, not now. Sorry. What’s gonna happen now? Will we lose the competition? I don’t think that’s fair. Yeah I agree. Savan, Simon needs you. Boys you need to move. I get that you’re worried but he’s gonna be okay._ _Tomlinson how many times do I have to tell you to move?"_

 

 

*

 

“I think he’s waking up.”

Harry can easily recognize the Irish accent coming from his left. He cranes his neck to peek around and recognizes immediately that he’s in bed in their room.

Liam, Niall and Zayn stand around him bouncing from one leg to another, watching him anxiously.

He lowers his gaze and finds the one missing person, a tired-eyed Louis sinking into a chair next to his bed. As if sensing Harry watching him, Louis whips his head up and smiles.

Harry tries to smile back, willing his muscles to wake up from a long slumber like himself. His head is still dizzy and he has close to no recollection of what happened at the rehearsal or how his lines went, but there will be plenty of time to discuss that.

What matters is the boys right there, in front of him, guarding and protecting him from anything and everything.

And Louis.

Harry has no idea how long he slept but he's sure Louis waited for him because he looks tired, fringe a real mess, as if he was running his fingers over it way too many times. There are worry lines on his forehead and his eyes look more tired than usual, but Harry can't be arsed about it, he's as beautiful as ever.

_I’m so in love with you._

Harry feels blush creep up his cheeks and has to bite his lip to hide his smile.  He sees Louis suck in a huff of air which sounds like he’s just come up from underwater.           

“Hi.” Louis smiles back at him, eyes crinkling, smile still a bit strained.           

Harry starts to sit upright, and Louis is out of his chair in nanoseconds to come back with a pillow. Harry tugs it behind his back and leans against the headboard, more comfortable now.

Louis scoots the legs of the chair closer, thumb caressing Harry’s right cheek. “You gave us quite the scare, Curls,” he whispers.   

Harry looks around his friends. “How long have I been out of it?”

“An hour, maybe a bit longer.” Liam replies.

”Sixty-two minutes,” Louis corrects him.

“Did anything happen while I--?”           

“Well. Let’s see.” Louis begins looking around pointedly. “Niall was on the verge of crying, Liam’s been trembling with worry, I heard Zayn yell for the first time. What else... Hm...”

“He got banned from backstage!” Niall yells.  

“You what?!” Harry stares at Louis in disbelief.

“ _Tomlinson,”_ Louis starts in a high pitched voice, imitating an angry woman. _“I also want to take care of him, but I swear to god if you don’t sit your arse down I’m gonna kick you out!”_       

“And you didn’t listen to her?” Harry asks, trying to downplay the warmth spreading in his chest at the thought of Louis risking his backstage access just to be with him.           

“You were not feeling well.” Louis replies matter-of-factly.

That earns a low chuckle from the group.       

“You should’ve seen it, Haz.” Niall breathes between two chuckles. “She’s like... go. And he’s like... make me. And then she's lik--” By now he laughs so hard that he tips his head back, accidentally knocking Liam in the jaw.

“Ouch.” Liam whines rubbing his chin. He opens and closes his mouth as if checking if he has any broken bones. By the looks of it he has none.

Niall’s face is mortified. “Fuck, sorry.” He whips his head around with such a sudden movement that his neck cracks. This time Liam takes a cautious step back, seemingly concentrating all his thoughts on avoiding another painful unwanted contact.    

Harry buries his head under the covers. “I’m sorry.” Everyone’s gaze goes back on him. “I caused a right mess.” comes his garbled voice from underneath the white cotton.       

“What did he say?” Liam asks with a frown, voice barely above a whisper.           

“That he caused a right mess.” Zayn answers.

“Hey no.” Liam steps closer and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s okay, I mean, it happens.”           

Louis pulls the covers down tenderly. “Nothing to be sorry for, love.” He looks deep into Harry’s eyes, a slow smile spreading on his lips. “Your colour looks less like an alien. Feeling any better?”   

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry smiles back.           

“Missed you, you know?” Louis whispers, thumbs tracing invisible circles on his right arm.

Harry grins back giddily. “Me too.” He catches Niall slot his arm on Liam and Zayn’s shoulders before practically pushing them out of the room.

Harry scoots against the wall to give Louis space, hissing a bit at the contact with the cold concrete. He taps the space next to him.

Louis jumps up eagerly and climbs in the bed. He's taking some time until he can finally settle: covers tucked up to his chin, legs tangled with Harry’s, arm spread over Harry's back, fingertips lazily ghosting along the dimple on his back.

“You’re like a cat.” Harry chuckles, amused.

“Am not,” Louis protests rubbing his cheek against Harry’s t-shirt.           

“You are though. You’ve hogged the covers and took over my bed completely, you idiot.”  

At that Louis starts to pull away.

Harry grabs his wrist to stop him. “Where do you think you’re going?”         

“This _idiot_ here has better things to do.”        

“You’re calling me a klutz every day, how is _that_ fair?”           

“But you _are_ a klutz.”

“And you _are_ an idiot sometimes.” Harry retorts in a stare-down.           

At that a pillow lands in his face.

Louis moves away but Harry is quick to react and pulls him down taking full control. Their lips slot together in a wet kiss and they're sucking and biting each other’s lips until all the fervor evaporates and Louis finally allows himself to relax.

Louis pecks him on the mouth and lies back on his back, head resting on Harry’s chest.     

Harry extends his arm and lifts it in the air. Louis’ open palm joins his without missing a beat. They laugh when their joined hands form a crooked roof which shakes with every new giggle. Harry slides his palm lower against Louis’, only stopping when their fingertips touch.

“My hand is bigger.”

Louis presses his fingertips against Harry's. “No, mate. They're the same. Look.”

“You cheated.”

“Did not.”

“Okay. If that makes you sleep better.”

Louis looks at him with a sour face and Harry laughs so hard that he tips his head back in laughter but he swallows his own saliva and ends up in a coughing fit.

“You deserved it.” Louis digs his nails into Harry's arm playfully.

“Ouch.” Harry rubs the reddening skin. “You’re worse than Dusty.”           

Louis kisses the tender skin. “That’s good because I know you love Dusty.” He breathes into Harry.

_And I love you._

Louis rubs his cheek against him and Harry swears it's intentional. “No, but seriously. Next thing I know you’ll be licking your paws,” Harry teases. He should’ve known better.

Because Louis being the stubborn little shit he is starts rolling around rubbing his entire body against his and licks the back of his hand. On top of that he has the audacity to wipe his shiny knuckles against Harry’s cheek.

Harry chuckles and grabs Louis’ wrist gently, guiding it to spread the saliva on his shirt.  

“Yuck.”           

Harry looks at him, bemused. “It’s your own fucking saliva.”        

Louis’ eyebrows jump up. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I’m kissing _you_ with this mouth,” Harry whispers leaning down, one hand cupping Louis’ jaw, the other pulling him up by the back of his neck.

“You have a dirty mouth.” Louis breathes out as his lips crush with Harry’s.           

Harry giggles. “Shut up and kiss me you fool.” 

They break the kiss when a polite cough comes from Niall lingering in the doorway.

“Sweetheart, the car’s waiting for us.” Louis whispers.

“Nooo.” Harry grunts tipping his head back.

 

*

 

 

They’re the last to get in the huge van awaiting them.

Harry lets his head drop on Louis’ shoulder as soon as they take the backseat. He practically purrs when he feels Louis’ hand resting in his hair before tugging a strand of hair off his forehead.

“How long until the show?” Zayn asks.

Liam looks at his watch. “About three and a half hours.”

“Oh my god.” Niall buries his face in his hand.

Liam pats his knee. “You’re gonna be okay. Those cubes--”           

“Liam don't!!” Niall’s plea comes, hands muffling Liam’s mouth.

Harry frowns. What did he miss?

“Think he’ll be okay?” Zayn whispers turning to Louis.

“Yeah. I think so.”

Harry lifts his head. “Who?”           

“Nialler,” Louis replies, fingers combing the ringlets falling back to Harry's eyes with every bump on the road.      

Liam whips his head around in alarm. “What? I just wanted to say those cubes are not that--”        

“Don’t say it.” Niall whines.

“Don’t say what?” Liam asks confused.

“What shouldn't he say?” Harry joins.

“I think he doesn’t want to hear the _C word."_ Louis whispers using air quotes and taps Harry’s cheek lightly. “I think it’s better if you're in my lap sweetheart. Your head keeps falling down, it must be uncomfortable.”

Harry bends his knees to fit on the seat and rests his head in Louis’ lap.

Now that he has a much better view he sweeps his gaze on the boys and catches Liam frown, seemingly deep in thought.   

“Okay so those _things,”_ Liam starts, making sure to whisper the word, _“_ are not that high.”

“Not helping.” Zayn interjects.   

“I reckon Nialler knows deep inside it’s not that high but he’s still afraid.” Louis agrees.

“What's not high?” Harry asks again.

'These cubes we’ll be standing on.” Louis replies to him.

“Oh. Then. You will be okay. Yeah.” Liam breathes out and pats Niall’s knee again.

Niall seems to appreciate the gesture and manages to squeeze out a strained smile.

Louis sighs. “If you don’t feel okay we’ll have them removed.”  

“Yeah, I don’t think it matters if we’re standing on fricking cubes or not. We’re here to sing,” Zayn adds.

“Exactly!” Liam shrieks.           

“You’d do that?”           

“Of course Nialler.” Louis extends his free hand and pats Niall’s shoulder. “We’re here for you, okay? We’re all here for each other. And if you don’t feel like performing while standing on that shit then we won't.”

“That’s great. You know? Wow.” Niall's voice breaks. He turns his head to the side to rub his eyes.        

“Don’t cry because I’m gonna cry too.” Liam mumbles on a shaky voice.           

“Aren’t you two sweet.” Zayn adds on a teasing tone.

 

*

 

 

“Promise.” Harry sighs and pecks Louis on the cheek. This has been going on for the last few minutes: Louis worrying and Harry assuring him he'll be okay.

“You can't make that promise.”

“Trust me. I just need an hour to like… be in... in the…”

“Zone.” Louis finishes for him.

“Yeah, zone. Really. Don't worry. It'll be okay.”

At least that's what Harry keeps repeating.     

Louis doesn’t believe him, if the worried looks he casts in his direction are any indication.

Truth is, Harry wouldn’t have believed himself either if he was him.           

Eventually, Louis gives in and leads him to one of the breather rooms. “I’ll come pick you up in an hour, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Harry replies before plopping down on the hammock.           

Finally, Louis leaves with a last kiss on the forehead. He didn't touch Harry's wrist like he usually does and thank God for that because then he would've felt his pulse. To say Harry’s ready to face his fears and go on that stage is a colossal lie.

He turns his phone on with shaky fingers and  picks the playlist that fits his mood the best. He puts his earplugs in and lays down, sprawled on the hammock, arms and legs dangling lifelessly on each side.

He tries to relax, he _has_ to relax, _has_ to will all the cells in his body to forget about the upcoming disaster.

“You need to get out of this funk.”

Harry jumps in surprise, earplugs hanging in one hand while his other hand is pressed to his heart trying to stop it from jumping out of his ribcage. After all, he almost ended up tangled falling face down like a possum.

Harry narrows his eyes. “This wasn't an hour, it can't be.”

“Nope. Sixteen minutes.”

“W-why?”

“Because I don't want you to do it alone.” Louis replies in a soft tone before throwing a hoodie on the hammock.

Harry looks down at the clothing item suspiciously. “What have you planned?”

“Harold we’re going on an adventure!” Louis yells.           

“Shesh, tone it down. I figured that much. Besides, you scared me.”

“Well if you hadn't been hiding under the covers listening to angry music you would have heard me coming.”

“I was not under the covers.”

“Details, Harold.”

“And I’m not hiding.”

Louis tips his head to the left. “You wanna say that again?”

“Ok maybe I am.” Harry pulls a face. “And don’t hurt MCR.”           

“You know, I’d never. I quite fancy some MCR myself, but tell me how many times have you been listening to Teenagers on repeat?”

Harry opens his mouth then closes it. Damn. “Am I this…?”

“Obvious? Yeah. You are.” He stops at the bed, takes off his imaginary top hat and bends his elbow in an invitation. “Mr. Styles, fancy a lovely adventure?”

Harry giggles as he takes in the view of Louis standing next to him offering his hand as if they were in the sixties. “What are you doing?” he whispers incredulously.           

“Shush you, I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“You know, my parents would never let you in wearing _that."_ He motions to the rip on Louis’ t-shirt.

“Good thing they’re not here then,” Louis replies with a wink. “Shall we?”           

Harry reaches for the hoodie Louis placed at the end of the hammock. He looks at Louis’ attire then at the black hoodie in his own hand. “So we’re gonna be _that_ couple?”

“It’s about the color and you love it when I dress you, you sap.”

Harry dresses then. Louis places a chaste kiss on his lips when his head appears from the neck hole. He locks his fingers at the back of Harry’s neck and massages him with his thumbs.

Harry purrs.

He loves when Louis does that. He also loves that Louis' won't allow him to wallow alone and takes him to--- whatever that is. “It’s not gonna be anything illegal, right?” he squints up one eye open.  

Louis stops massaging him. “Who do you take me for, Harold?!”           

“Alright, had to check,” Harry replies giggling. He presses his head against Louis’ fingers to have them back on him.

Louis scoffs. “And you say I’m the bloody cat?”

Harry puts on his best pout.

“Alright. That’s enough moping for one day.” Louis says as he grabs his hand and hauls him up.   

“Hey, what happened to being a gentleman?”

“Your gentleman has been waiting for you to accept his offering hand for minutes!”           

“Alright. Jeez. No need to yell.”          

Louis leads them out of the room. He walks in the front, pulling Harry along behind him. When they reach the corner leading down the huge corridor, Louis stops.

Harry bumps his nose in his back. “Ouch.”      

Louis turns back to him, index finger on his pursed lip. “Shhhh”.           

“But it hurts,” Harry whines.

Louis places a quick peck on his nose as if saying ‘here, kissed it better’ and moves out of the corner stealthily, body plastered up the wall the entire time.

“You okay?” Harry asks, amused.        

“Shush you.” Once Louis deems the path clear he turns the corner and they end up in a hall wide enough that Harry can walk next to him.

“Are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?” Harry inquires when they pass the grand staircase.

Louis’ eyes dart in every direction, he pauses and shifts again, scurrying across a few open doors. He guides Harry by the waist, occasionally digging his fingers in the flesh which Harry thinks is probably a good idea as it keeps him from face planting the floor.

“Lou why are we dressed like burglars?”       

Louis locks his hand with Harry’s to get him walk again. “Clear,” he whispers, obviously very in the zone of whatever they're doing.   

“You didn’t answer.”

“To what, actually?” Louis tips his head back. 

“You. Me. Black clothes. Sneaking around. Torch poking out of your back pocket. Wait, where did you even find a torch?”  

“We’re gonna be late, Haz.” He pushes Harry along in the next hallway.

Harry doesn’t move. “Late for what?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up.

Louis grins and takes Harry’s hand in his own. “Will you come with me if I guarantee no harm will be done to animals and inanimate objects?”

"You sound like a disclaimer from Jackass.”   

Louis puts his hand on his lips and lets out the most adorable giggle Harry's ever heard. "You’re fucking up our cover Haz!” he whisper-shouts.

“Ahha! I knew you’re hiding from something.” he narrows his eyes. “Or someone.”           

Louis rolls his eyes. “I didn’t deny the hiding part, but you’re going to ruin my surprise!”      

Harry opens his mouth in delight but decides against voicing his excitement, not wanting to _fuck up their cover._

Another minute passes, seriously how big could this studio be? And Louis stays silent.

Harry steps in front of him forcing him to halt if he doesn’t want to crash into him. “Hypothetically, if I asked when we’re getting there what would you say?”           

“I’d hypothetically roll my eyes.” Louis chuckles.

Harry sighs. “And if I hypothetically kissed you in exchange for that intel?”           

“You’re playing dirty, Styles.” Louis narrows his eyes. He takes a step back, eyes level with Harry’s. “You’re not going to play this game. Besides, it’s all hypothetical, so it’s not like I’m in danger of getting kissed by you or anything.”

“I hate you.”           

They walk a bit more and enter --

“The kitchen?” Harry asks, mouth agape.

“Yes.” Louis replies proudly. “You and I, my dear Harold, are going to bake.”           

“We’re wha--- is this for real?” Harry stutters.  

“Yup!” Louis exclaims and lets out a strangled _oomph_ as Harry’s body crashes into him, for real this time.           

“Get off me, you oaf.” He goes for mock-offended but the crinkles around his eyes give him away.

Harry melts into him and closes his eyes as he allows the happiness to soak right through his bones. He’s mentioned it to Louis once and _he remembered._ It was just an off-handed remark how he wished he could bake, because he’s a stress baker at home, and it bothered him that he couldn’t do it in the house, so Louis made it happen in the big kitchen of the studio. Oh god.           

“You love it?”           

“I love y---”

“Fuck! Get down!” Louis whisper-shouts and ducks Harry’s head down as voices can be heard from far away, getting dangerously close with every heartbeat. They hide behind the large table, holding their breaths back.

Harry’s heart is beating at an erratic rate thanks to the worst timed love confession in the history of love confessions. _He couldn’t have heard it._ _He was too distracted._ _He didn’t reply but it’s not because he doesn’t love me back._ _That would be completely absurd._    

The women's shoes come ridiculously close to Harry’s sides. Louis holds him closer, hiding his body in an embrace.

Thankfully the two women don’t notice anything, being too busy gossiping.

Then the shoes disappear from sight and the voices go away as the two women leave the room.

Harry lets out a relieved huff of air. “That was close.” He climbs out from hiding and swipes the dirt off his jeans, pulling Louis with him.

“So.” Louis starts.

“So.”

Louis slides up on the kitchen counter. “Bake.”

Harry chuckles. “You're not gonna help?”

“I reckon I'm more help this way.”

 

 

*

 

 

“Lou.” Harry asks, knees bent while observing the muffins through the glass of the oven.

“Yeah?”

“Where did you find that baking soda?”

“Er, here. It was in this jar,” he motions to a small yellow jar.

Harry puts his index finger inside and licks the white substance off. Just as he suspected. “Taste it.”

“Ew. No. Baking soda tastes like shit. Even _I_ know that.”

“No, really. Taste it.”

Louis presses the edge of his tongue to the white powder then looks at Harry with wide eyes. “That’s sugar?”

“Exactly.”

“At least it's not cocaine.”

Harry snorts. “I'm pretty sure it would sell better if it had some in it but as it is missing baking soda it's not high enough.” Harry chuckles. “High. Not high enough. You get it?”

“Remind me never to surprise you ag---”         

Harry crashes his lips against Louis’ forcefully, effectively shutting him up but he has to break the kiss because he’s laughing so hard, that it can hardly be called kissing when it's their teeth clashing. “Hi-high.” They pull apart to rest their foreheads together.

“Will I ever get used to your puns?” Louis smiles.           

“I hope not.” Harry pouts and starts fishing in his pocket.

They hear a beeping sound and Harry takes his phone out right in time for Louis to snatch it. Louis punches a few buttons and scrolls through the message.

“What does it say?” Harry leans into him, not wanting to miss it. “Who’s it from?”

Louis shows the screen to him. “Payno.”        

‘ _Where r u???? Show strts ni 2 hrs!!!! Were in the breater rum. Stop whutev u doin & come.' _

“Oh, ever the worrywart.” Harry chuckles.     

“We have to do something with these abbreviations. My eyes hurt from reading it.” Louis chuckles. He looks at Harry, features becoming softer. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he grins at Louis.

 

*

 

 

They run all the way back to the breather room chuckling like little kids the whole time, only slowing down when they're close.

Harry stretches one arm and leans against the wall to calm his breathing, his other hand holding his hurting side.

They sneak inside the room quietly, hoping no one noticed their disappearance.

Fat chance. The room is packed.

They make their way to Zayn, Liam and Niall who are sitting on the sofa.

“I'm not even gonna ask.” Zayn mumbles after he takes one glance at them.

Louis flops down onto Niall’s lap casually and Niall laces his fingers around his waist without missing a beat.

“Where were y--? And why are you in all black? And what's that white thing in your hair Harry?” Liam asks.

“We were ju-”           

Liam lifts his open palm in the air. “You know what? I take it back, I don’t even want to know.”           

“If you’re sure, Lima. But just so you know we had sooo much fun.” Louis sends a not so subtle wink towards Harry who smiles big in return.

“Yeah I don’t doubt that.” Niall nudges Louis in the back.

“Hope you kept it PG.” Zayn teases.          

Louis punches him in the arm. “Who do you take me for, Malik? I’m a gentleman!”

At that moment the door bursts open and all eyes turn toward the clothes-rack rolling in the room, packed with shiny costumes and accessories dangling from all directions.

As soon as the rack and all its content is safe near the wall, a nervous-looking young girl stops in front of them and looks up from her papers with wide eyes.

“You’re the boys from One- One D-Direction?” Her cheeks flush when she makes eye contact.

Zayn stands up straighter. “Yeah, we are. Nice to meet you.”

“Hello.” The girl waves timidly. “Me and my sister have been cheering for you.”

“Aww thank you.” They all reply as one.

“What’s your name?” Liam asks.           

“Pam.”

“Hi Pam.” Niall waves sweetly.

She dives into her paper then picks out some costumes on hangers from the rack. “These will be yours.”

“Thanks love.” Louis addresses her softly before approaching the coffee table. He grabs a pen and a piece of paper from the stack and drops back on the sofa next to his bandmates.

“What’s the name of your sister?” he asks Pam.

“Leonie.”           

Louis scribbles some words on the paper and passes it to the others. When they all sign it and draw their doodles, he extends his hand and gives the signed paper to Pam.        

“Oh my god.” She squeals jumping up. “I’ll never forget this. Thank you! Thank you!”

“Acts 4-5-6 in performing order follow me to hair and make-up!”           

“That’s our cue to leave.” They all stand up and Harry gives her a hug then shakes her hand.

“You’re weird.” Liam mumbles.

“Stop insulting my boy! It’s called being polite.” Louis pinches him in the arm before embracing Pam in a tight hug.

After they exchange their goodbyes and Pam wishing good luck, all of them are taken to hair and make-up. There isn’t anything super extra done with their hair and make-up, this isn’t a thematic week and the song is a simple love song, so their hair do is pretty simple. When done they're herded to another room to change into their suits. They’re act 6, so they have a bit of time to spare backstage.

To say that backstage is busy is an understatement.

It’s always like that, chaos, people missing, people reappearing; hair messed up, hair retouched, make-up smudging, make-up retouched. It’s as if everyone is given one more chance to fail and have their mistake corrected by someone jumping in front of them attacking them with hair spray and make-up.           

“We only have four directions. Where is the fifth direction?” A young woman who Harry doesn't recognize asks, wearing a STAFF t-shirt. She looks around, frantically tapping her headset and grabs the first passing person’s arm when no reply comes. “Jimmy get me fifth direction or I swear I’m gon--” She cuts off mid-sentence as she looks behind Jimmy’s shoulders, eyes narrow and dark.

The band turns as one to see what made her this upset.

 _Fifth Direction a.k.a. Niall Horan_ comes into their view prancing and waving at them with a Snickers bar. As soon as he notices her his beaming smile disappears and a dominant frown takes over his features.

He stops a few steps away, seemingly bothered by everyone’s attention on him.“What? It’s nutrition, alright?” he asks clasping his bar of chocolate as if afraid someone would bag it.           

“You can nutrify yourself the whole bloody day for all I care but you can’t just disappear under my watch. You’re supposed to be on stage in ten minutes.” The staff member says, quite accusingly.   

“T-ten minutes?” Harry asks and feels his cheeks getting hot.

“Hey, no need to be rude,” Louis raises his voice slightly.

“We’re not even up next,” Niall grumbles.

“What do you mean you’re not next?!”

Niall opens up and squeezes the wrapper inside his pocket with the most unhurried movements Harry’s ever seen. “It’s on the program,” he says, biting a significant chunk in one go.            

The woman seems too focused to scold him for talking with his mouth full. “What program?”           

Niall swallows and sucks the smeared chocolate off his fingertips with loud smacks.

Harry watches him in awe, wondering how he manages to do it, staying so composed, standing there unbothered, Snickers hanging out of his mouth.           

Then pulls his phone out, still chewing half-loudly while fumbling around with the buttons.

Harry risks a glance at the woman who by the looks of it is more on edge than an erupting volcano. Just in time before lava starts to stream from her body Niall shoves his phone in her hand. “ _This_ program.”

The woman takes the device and zooms on the picture. She narrows her eyes and lifts her gaze, rounding it on all the boys as she begins to tap her sharp long nail on the screen loudly.

They all step a bit closer to see the picture. It's showing the schedule with two acts crossed out, a red arrow indicating a change of schedule, One Direction included.

“They changed it!” she screeches.

Niall snatches his phone back and checks the screen, seemingly looking for cracks from the nails belonging to this crazy woman who doesn’t appreciate pre-show nutrition.     

“They bloody changed it!” the woman shrieks again.

Niall only shrugs, still chewing his chocolate. 

She looks around frantically, searching for an audience to join her outrage but she comes up empty handed. She focuses her gaze back on Niall. “You’re kidding me.”

Just in time to swallow the last nut Niall lifts his head bravely, ending up eye to eye with her. “No, I’m not. I overheard the stage manager that they changed the order to _give them more drama."_ He makes a great impression of Mandy earning some sniggers from the people in the room.

“Where did you hear that?”           

"Technical room.”           

“What were you doing in the technical room?”

“I was hungry and the closest vending machine is _at_ the technical room. I wasn’t in--”           

“Why is everyone eating instead of working??!"        

“Maybe _you_ should also try this stress eating thing. Would make people's lives easier around you.” Zayn mumbles lowly and even the usually sour-faced Liam has to bite back a smile.           

The woman doesn’t even hear him to take offense, she’s too busy hating on the world.   

“And why do I hear about this only now? This clearly says One Direction is the eighth.” She pushes her wrinkled paper under Niall’s nose.

He barely glances at her as he’s busy brushing out the remnants of the nuts from his teeth with his tongue.

“I’ve been wasting minutes waiting for you,” she’s yelling. “Really, when was Mandy planning to bloody tell me this?” she looks at Niall angrily. “I could’ve been with the actual act who is up next!”

Harry isn't even standing close to her, but he has to lift his hands to cover his ears to stop them from ringing like a church bell. He can't imagine what Niall feels standing _next to_ her.

Niall takes a step back and scurries next to the boys, happily offering his position to the unsuspecting Jimmy, who now has to listen to staff woman’s cursing and by the looks of it poor Jimmy regrets every decision in his life which ended him up at The X Factor studios.

Louis steps forward. “Okay that’s enough. You either calm down in the next ten seconds or you send someone who can actually help us.”           

The woman blinks once, her cheeks turn red and she can’t do anything but fishmouth, clearly not expecting to be put in her place by a teenager. She taps her headset, asking for someone because ‘ _there are people who I actually need to take care of. Like people who perform._ _On the program Mandy has changed’._          

Soon a young boy comes and takes them to one of the empty quiet rooms backstage where they will stay until they are called on stage.

They settle in on the large couch and Liam turns on the TV to watch what is going on stage.   

Louis gently grabs Harry’s hand and squeezes his thumb. Only then does Harry realize it’s almost bleeding where he’s been peeling the skin near the nail bed.           

“Gonna hurt like a bitch later.”          

“Yeah. I know.”           

Louis keeps the finger in captivity and Harry is more than grateful for that because he wouldn’t have trusted himself with surfaces that can be broken or torn.

Not in his current state of mind.

“You shouldn’t be watching this.” Louis nods towards the screen where Belle Amie is struggling to keep themselves in check. They mostly manage but their eyes are too bright, failing to hide the moisture threatening to spill out.

They will be dragged backstage for a live interview soon, only given a few minutes to touch their makeup and collect their thoughts.

This is reality television.

It isn’t important to give people time to deal with their tears. Nope. Every camera will be pushed in their faces to capture their tiniest facial expressions.          

Harry never understood the goal of these post-performance interviews. How they expect them to form coherent sentences after they’re torn to shreds by unnecessarily mean comments is beyond him.

Louis extends his hand to him before pulling him up. He holds Harry’s waist and slowly walks him to the far end of the room. When they reach the wall they turn face to face, both resting one shoulder against the wall.     

“You’re winding yourself up, love. Breathe with me.” Louis lifts his left hand and caresses Harry’s cheek, taking deep breaths himself. Harry’s shoulders sag. Louis’ right thumb starts drawing calming circles on his wrist. “I’ll practice with you. If you want.”       

“Been practicing the whole day, Lou and I still can’t get it right.” Harry whines.           

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”           

“You’ve been practicing the same thing for hours. Maybe what you need is to stop thinking about it.”

“No. I don’t want to be like them! I can’t be them, Lou. ”

“Like who?” Louis inquires with a frown.        

“A cautionary tale. You know. People missing their chance.’

Louis pulls Harry closer by the waist. "Love. I don’t know what’s gonna happen when we go on that stage. I think you’ll be amazing but I cannot guarantee it. But you know what? I know you’ll do everything you can and that’s what counts.”           

Harry scoffs. “Big deal.”           

“Hey, no.” Louis states firmly. “You are thoroughly and completely prepared, don’t doubt that. Do you really think you could’ve rehearsed more?”

“No.” Harry mumbles, shrugging.           

“I don’t think this is about the song anymore, to be honest.” Louis whispers softly. “It’s the Cinderella case.”

“The Cinderella case?” Harry asks back.        

“Yeah, see, Lottie and her class had this school play Cinderella, a year ago. She came home running around the kitchen table yelling excitedly that she was going to play Cinderella. She hasn’t even gotten the part yet.” Louis pulls a face.

“Every girl in class wanted to be Cinderella of course, so the teacher organized this mini competition where they all performed and the best one was chosen. Lottie came second, so she became the understudy, but as you can imagine, she was devastated. We tried to talk to her, explained to her that the understudy had an important role because she could be called in anytime and her work was just as valued as if she was performing herself. We told her we were so proud of her, no matter what, but she was inconsolable. Understandably.” Louis frowns. “After all, she was only ten, so it meant the end of the world to her, you know?”

Harry nods with a pout, completely engrossed in the story.           

Louis goes on. “Whenever they rehearsed she stood behind the curtains, her lips moving along with Amelia, she was the one who got the role. So Lots knew all the lines, the dance routine, but of course she couldn’t perform herself. The day before the show Amelia broke her leg. Lottie was called in last minute. She was so nervous opening night when all these people began filling up the seats. She kept asking _are we full house, are we full house?_ she was working herself up terribly.

“She was scared of screwing up or falling face down in front of everybody. When the lights went out, she was called on stage. She stepped behind the curtain trembling like a leaf. The curtain opened and when the spotlight found her, all we could see was her shaking silhouette. She looked around, terrified beyond belief and to our biggest surprise, she bolted off the stage.”

Harry caresses Louis’ hand with his thumb.

“We all rushed backstage, she was a right mess. We tried to calm her down but we couldn’t. Then her teacher came up and talk to her, we didn’t know then what she said to Lots but she visibly started to relax and kept nodding as her teacher talked to her. When she got back on stage she was determined, head held high, the audience applauded. They loved her more for taking the courage and coming out again after her breakdown. She made the best Cinderella the school’s ever seen.” Louis looks down with a proud smile as he recalls the memory.          

Harry smiles proudly, making a mental note to hug Lottie extra tight the next time he sees her.          

“Do you know what her teacher said?” Louis asks, gaze back at Harry again.         

Harry shakes his head.

“She told her to stop worrying about forgetting the lines or falling on stage, and instead to start focusing on how amazing she will be. She didn’t want her to fight her own stage fright, because being anxious on stage is normal, but if she had been only focusing on that, her anxiety would have worked against her.”

Harry understands Louis’ point. He realizes then that nothing monstrous would happen if he fucked up that line. Maybe no one would even notice. He would try his best, for his boys, for all the Cinderella understudies and most of all for himself… and Louis.

He wants to squeeze him in a bone crushing hug and kiss the living daylights out of him. So he does just that. He throws himself at him, almost knocking him over and Louis almost stumbles back but even then he hugs Harry just as tight.

Harry has to crouch down a bit to be able to tug his face into his neck and inhales his scent, the smell of him. Louis. Love. Protection.           

 _Home._            

“You’ll be the best Cinderella.” Louis mumbles into his shirt. They stay like this for a ridiculous time, Harry practically purrs in giddiness. 

_I’m so in love with you._           

He can feel it streaming through his veins, all the cells and all blood vessels in his body. He pulls back from the hug to look at Louis. _Tell him. Tell him._

“You think I have the looks?” he asks instead, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.           

Louis pinches his cheek fondly. “Come on H, you know very well you do. Stop fishing for compliments.” 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading it! If you liked it please leave kudos, comments and reblog the original tumblr post:  
> [here](http://tellmethisisnotlove.tumblr.com/post/160836573499/tellmethisisnotlove-title-just-ask-me-to)  
> See you next Friday! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week was hard, too many innocent lives were lost. RIP all those beautiful souls who we lost in these terrible tragedies.
> 
> And without further ado here we are again, this is part two of chapter 2, so it's all happening at the same night. I don't think any kind of trigger warning is needed. I do not wish to read comments calling out the fic for being explicit or having any other details that were already exclusively tagged in the fic. Tags are warnings, so consider yourself warned.
> 
> Thank you for your continuous support. Please be nice and love each other!  
> 
> 
> xx  
>  Gabi

"Boys, go backstage! You’re up in twenty!”     

He blows Louis a kiss and turns around, making sure to sway his hips as he swaggers down the corridor leading to the stage area.

His newly gained confidence slowly begins to evaporate as things backstage suddenly and quickly turn-- 

Real.

He jumps when a familiar hand comes to rest on his waist, he doesn’t know when Louis has snuck behind him because he can swear he stood between Zayn and Niall only a moment ago.

Louis begins drawing all kinds of figures with his thumb.

It feels so calming, so soothing that Harry closes his eyelids, leans back on him and allows himself to clear his head and relax.

“Don’t forget to breathe, love.” Louis whispers.

Right. To breathe. And relax. Because this has to his best performance, it has to. 

And he'll will get there, he'll do it, and when that happens he's going to hug the living soul out  a of Louis for being there for him but right now he has to get his shit together. 

“We’re going out in twenty, did you hear what Molly said?” Louis whispers in his ear and kisses his temple. 

Oh. “No, sorry.” And for the first time he doesn't feel that a baseball bat is stuck in his throat.

“I figured.”

There's a loud noise and their attention shifts to the mounted TV playing the X factor theme.

A snippet is shown about their previous performance and how they jumped around when Dermot shouted _One Direction_ after Kids in America, then the screen is switched to a pre-recorded video.

 **_Simon Cowell:_ ** _You’re the most exciting pop band in the country._

 **_Louis Walsh:_ ** _You're young. You're handsome. You have a great voice. You have everything you need!_

_**Dannii Minogue:**  This week's theme is slow love songs._

**_Savan Kotecha:_** _At sound check we noticed that Harry's been really ill. We're guessing it's nerves. I'm really worried about him._

“God.” Harry whispers.

“Fuck.” Louis joins.

On the screen a dizzy Harry is surrounded by the lads and some crew members, they hold him, and try to talk to him. It's quite visible he's completely out of it.

 **_Brian Friedman:_ ** _I just. I feel like we should take him out. I would like him to sit this out._

“That psycho kept the footage.” Louis grits out through his teeth and throws his hands up in frustration. “I can’t believe this.” He turns towards Harry. “Sweetheart, don’t listen to that, okay?” He takes both of Harry’s hands in his and looks deep in his eyes. “Concentrate on the song only. Remember Cinderella?” He stretches on his tiptoes and kisses him softly, just a brush of lips, enough for Harry to feel ‘ _I’m here and I’m gonna stay here with you the entire time.'_

“You can do it man.” Zayn pats him on the back.

"You'll be great Harry.” Niall smiles and hugs him tight.

When they pull apart only one hand stays on his waist and he knows damn well whose hand it is.

 **_Savan Kotecha:_ ** _He had to go to the doctor so he missed sound check._

Harry raises his eyes to the ceiling and lets out a long huff of air.

“I hate that I can’t turn it off.” Louis hugs him tighter from behind.   

It's remarkable how supportive Louis is being but a supportive Louis is still not enough to succeed. Harry knows he needs to do his own part, and if Lottie could do it he can too. “It’s okay, I think I can do it.”

Louis turns him around and looks him in the eye as if searching for reassurance. When he seemingly finds none, he flashes a slow smile towards him. “You sure?”

Harry smiles back. “Yeah I think so.”

At that moment Molly comes up with a headset and a tablet in her hand. “Okay boys, you’re lucky because we’re going on an ad break. Remember, you have twenty minutes to take your position and for the love of god don’t you dare fall off that thing!’

“We’re not talking about that!” Niall lets out a sound halfway between a scream and a whine.

Molly's gaze shifts around the boys with one raised brow, silently asking _is he okay._

“Afraid of heights,” Zayn elaborates.

 **_Brian Friedman:_ ** _He never had stage fright before like this, preventing him from performing._

Molly facepalms. “Oh great. Then who in their right mind thought it would be a good idea to put you up in the air? 2/5 is about to collapse!”

“I told you we should've turned it off.” Louis whispers and Harry cackles, feeling lighter.

“In the air?” Niall turns around with eyes so wide, they're about to jump out of their casket.

“We’re not gonna be in the air!” Liam sets a consoling arm on his shoulder and dips his head towards Molly, shooting a glare at her. “Don’t say that. It’s not true.”

Molly lifts up both of her hands in apology. “You’ll be safe, we’ve done this plenty of times, okay? The blocks are wide, so it’s really hard to fall off. And even if you do, we have an ambulan--wow you really are afraid.” She cuts herself off when she sees Niall’s complexion change to an unhealthy shade of white.

“Yeah maybe the ambulance part made it too real.” Louis whispers.

 ** _Dannii Minogue:_ ** _A little bit of nerves is really really good for a performance. Can lift the energy but when you've got bandmates relying on you... I don't know what they're gonna do._

“Okay, off you go now. Good luck.”

The audience goes wild as soon as they walk on stage. Louis leads them and positions Harry on the cube next to him, Niall on his other side.

Harry realises right then that the distraction with Louis’ story, Niall’s freakout and that ridiculous staff member helped him forget about his actual problem, but now standing on stage and waiting for their cue it all seems a bit more real but he knows he has to overcome the fear.

Failure is an unknown word in his dictionary.  

He squeezes his lids shut and focuses his thoughts on all the things his vocal coach asked of him. He’s imagining positive scenarios, happiness and proud faces, he _sees_ a little Lottie sweeping the entire audience off their feet with so much heart and charisma that seems to be only programmed in the Tomlinson DNA.

He wants to prove himself to her. And most of all he owes this to himself. He didn’t audition just to fail. He didn’t meet the boys for the story to be over.

He wants it, wants to succeed so bad.

He bends forward, eyes locking with Louis who sends a wink to him and whispers _You’ll be the best Cinderella._

Harry has to bite his lips to stop himself from reaching out to touch him.

The lights are on.

Showtime.

 

It all becomes a jumbled memory from then on.

Liam delivers his part perfectly and the next thing Harry remembers is that he grabs his microphone with a firm grip and sings. He simply sings. It’s just him and the music. He looks down and then up, straight to the camera, trying not to flinch, the lights are blinding him. He takes a deep breath and disentangles the microphone from its holder. He forgets about the audience, the stage, the disruption. He opens his mouth and sings his line like never before.

_I need to tell you_

_How you light up every second of the day_

He lets his body enjoy the music, the beat vibrating through him, it fills him up with something he’s never felt before.  He can't really celebrate it yet, has to wait until they finish, so for now he has to suppress an euphoric laughter of relief because he did it.

He fucking did it! 

They're rushed off the stage, Molly approaches them with a big smile. “That was great boys. Wait for my call to gather in front of the judges. Leave the stage so Matt can take it then Aiden closes the show. Everything clear?”

They all nod. 

“Good. Now go to the side and don’t even think about wandering away.” She takes a pointed look at Niall.

 

Louis is by his side when they stand in front of the judges, waiting for their comments.

Walsh is up first. “I love what you did with the song, you totally made it your own and I love that the band is gelling even though Simon is gonna claim he put this band together, it was _my_ idea, originally, Simon.”

"It wasn't."

"It was," Walsh insists then turns back toward them. "Boys, I think potentially you could be the next big boyband."

Harry only hears bits and pieces of what Walsh says in the end, but it’s enough to know they are complimented from the loud screams and cheers of the audience.

Dannii cannot even start what she wants, she has to wait a few beats until people quiet down. “Guys I don't know whose idea was 'cause I wasn't there but you look like you fit together like you're the perfect band. That song was fantastic and you did make it your own, I wasn't thinking of Elton John then. It was a perfect performance.”

At that, if possible, the crowd goes even more bonkers.

It's Cheryl's turn now. “I have to agree with Dannii, you look like you were meant to be together as a group, you look fantastic, you've got all the ingredients for the perfect pop band, i reckon the girls at home will be going crazy for you but you do need a little bit more time to develop as a group, that's all, just a little bit more time.”

And now, Simon. “Er, regarding your role in putting the group together Louis, we'll rewind the tapes then."

Walsh butts in. "Yeah, please do!"

Simon seems to ignore the comment and turns to them. "Guys, I wanna say something. This is the first time in all the years of The X Factor where I genuinely believe a group is gonna win this competition. And you know what? I wanna say this. What is so impressive is that you remained focused, you’ve been really nice to the crew, you’re nice to the fans and most importantly, everything that happened tonight from the choice of song to what you wore, it’s all down to you. And one more thing. Harry, I have to say that I know you’ve been struggling with your lines and you messed up during the rehearsals.”

The crowd starts booing at that. “Let me finish.” Simon yells, lifting his index finger then turns back towards the boys. “You messed up during the rehearsals.” More booing follows. Simon slaps the table playfully, taking a quick spin towards the audience.

“Bloody hell, let me finish.” He turns back to the boys after the protests have died down enough to be heard. “But tonight I see only healthy nerves. I don’t know how you overcame your stage fright, but what you did Harry up there is the biggest thing a performer can do and many stars would’ve failed under the pressure. Well done boys!”

As expected, they get through the next round, it's nerve-wracking to wait for the results, but it’s worth it.

 

“Yassss!” Niall shouts afterwards when they're asked to leave the stage. They jump on each other’s backs, yelling, laughing, extremely relieved.

Louis pulls Harry away from the madness. "I’m so proud of you. You did it!” He beams at him.

“I did it!” Harry screams back happily.

“Hey dicks you’re coming to party?”

“Sure Z!” Louis replies then turns towards Harry. “You coming love?”

“Er...” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “Only for a little bit okay?”

“Alright.”

 

*

 

 

“Hey Hazza, cake?” Aiden greets him while shoveling down a large piece of cake himself.

“Yeah. What flavors do we have here?” Harry asks, roaming his eyes over the selection of club sandwiches, tapas and cakes.

“That’s chocolate,” Aiden points his fork at the piece with a chocolate rose on top spoiling Harry’s _guess the flavor_ game instantly.

Harry grabs a piece of chocolate cake and lies it on its side carefully on a plate. “I used to make those kinds of roses,” he recalls while removing the transparent foil and putting the rose aside, saving the best for last.

“They look badass.”

“That they do.” Harry pierces his plastic fork in the cake and closes his eyes as he hums contentedly. The sponge is perfect, just the way he likes it. The cream isn’t too buttery and not too sweet either. It’s perfect.

“I’m gonna take one for Lou as well, he’s a fan of the fruity ones,” he says while he puts a fork next to the newly-obtained piece of fruit cake. He places Louis’ plate on the table next to him to keep it safe from grabby hands.

“Where are the lads?”

“Erm.” Harry swallows the piece he has in his mouth. “They stayed behind, will be joining us in a few.”

Aiden places his arm on Harry’s shoulder. “You did great up there. I know you had this thing… this stage fright but tonight it wasn’t visible, at least from the outside. You really smashed it.”

“Thank you, that’s really nice of you to say.” Harry smiles widely. “And I um, sorry you were in the bottom two,” he mumbles emphatically.

“Someone had to be, right?” Aiden replies with forced happiness before dropping his arm from Harry’s shoulder.

“Chatting up my boy, aren’t you?” Louis arrives, yelling louder than the music requires. He slings an arm on Aiden’s shoulders casually and for an outsider it might look absolutely innocent but if Aiden’s momentarily flinch is anything to go by, it wasn't.

“You know you could piss around him as well. Maybe there’s some moron out there who didn’t get the message that he’s yours.” Aiden mumbles.

“Oh shove off.” Louis cackles and hits Aiden in the chest playfully. “And he’s no one’s possession. Speaking of...” He directs his gaze towards Harry.

“Hi!” Harry beams.

“Hey.” Louis replies softly and walks up to him and rests a hand on his waist.

Aiden huffs with a fond expression but he knows better than to comment on it.

Harry places his plate with his half-eaten cake on the table and grabs Louis’. “Got this for you.”

“Aw thank you sweetheart.” Louis leans in, breath tickling Harry's ear. “Want some?” He pierces a piece with his fork and offers a bite, watching intensely as Harry eats the cake.   

“Hmm, delicious.” Harry replies with his mouth full. He gets another forkful but the cake smudges the cake at the edge of his lips accidentally. Before he can lick it off Louis wipes it off and makes a show by sucking it off his fingertip, eliciting obnoxious noises.

Just from that Harry is already half hard and has to bite his lip to keep himself from attacking him right then and there.

Oblivious, Louis puts his plate on the table and pulls Harry closer to him. “Bet yours would taste even better. Can I get a bite?”

The visuals aren't lost on Harry, thank you very much. In fact he can't swallow down the urge to picture Louis tasting him and looking up at him from underneath his eyelashes.

Aiden’s chuckle snaps him out of his daydream and his pointed look is enough to know he’s busted and he wasn't as subtle as he thought.

He leans his reddening cheek on Louis’ shoulder to hide a yawn.

“Tired?” Louis whispers softly.

“You have no idea. Haven’t slept a minute,” he mumbles into Louis’ shirt.

“Are you sure you want to stay and party?”

“I skipped the last two.”

“It's not an obligation, love. Just tell me when you want to leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna look for a place to sit. Have you seen Niall and Liam?”

Aiden points at the entrance. “Just arrived.”

“Great.”

Louis places a loving kiss on Harry’s temple. “Let me take those.” He motions to the uneaten cakes then squeezes Harry's waist before sliding the cakes on one plate. He's balancing the two so effortlessly and with more grace than Harry could muster with one only.

Louis casts one last look at him then turns around and disappears in the crowd.

Aiden tips his head in the direction Louis went. “He’s crazy for you.”

Harry feels his face redden at the comment. “Yeah? You think so?”

Aiden scoffs. “Are you blind, Haz?”

“No, I mean I guess I know he likes me but it’s good to hear it from someone neutral or well you're not really neutral but you're someone else and that's quite important because what if I misread the signs, you know? 'Cause maybe he just wants to have some fun as in not serious, and I'm not saying there's problem with that but what if that's the case and I'm oblivious. I could be biased you know? ”

“I was worried for a minute you forgot to  breathe.” Aiden smiles. “For the record I’m pretty sure he fancies you quite a bit.”

Harry looks at him with eyes that he's sure can only be described as comically wide. He _knows_ that Louis is close to Aiden but is he referring to an actual admission from Louis or is it just his own observation? The pull to ask him is strong but he it would be wrong, wouldn't it? Like cheating on a test. He straightens his back and leaves the comment unanswered hoping for a change of topic.

Aiden doesn’t let it slide.

Worse.

His eyes are mirroring Harry’s as he looks at him in mortification. “You guys haven’t said it to each other yet?”

Harry rubs the back of his neck and drops his gaze on his shoes. “No, we...er...”

“Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t know.” He steps forward and puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder then shakes his head as if Louis simply crushing on him would be the most incredulous thing he’s ever heard.

Harry can’t find a bone in his body to laugh.

Aiden seems to get the memo, even if a bit late. “I just… I thought you were discussing the names of your kids already, you know?”

A dismaying feeling starts to crawl in the pit of Harry's stomach. “No. We haven’t, actually…. haven't discussed or said or...” he stumbles through his words and shifts his gaze at the tables, eyes peering through the tables looking for something.

Anything. An out.

“You know what Haz, just-- don’t even listen to me. I’m just… gonna shut up now. Go to him and enjoy the night. You deserve it, okay?”

“Yeah.” Harry mumbles watching Aiden’s retreating body.

He starts to make his way through the mass of bodies swaying to the music. He tries to slalom between the dancing people carefully but still gets his fair share of punches in the back and the side with the accompanying sorry's.

“Congrats Haz,” a stage assistant slurs and leans to him. The strong smell of alcohol makes Harry so nauseated that he instantly takes a step back.

“Thank you.” He mumbles politely and deems the guy’s shoulder safe enough to pat before scurrying away as fast as he can.

He's only halfway to the tables when the music stops playing. As expected, people start complaining by lifting their hands in the air in frustration, eyes peering through the crowd angrily in search of the culprit who turned the music off.

Harry settles next to two crew members who seem to know what the hell is going on, gaze following the more experienced party goers who have turned towards the stage. 

“Hello everyone!” comes Simon's voice from the stage in the front. “Before you start hating on me I want to say that I haven't prepared with a speech this time becau--” The crowd erupts in a loud, happy cheer. Simon waits a beat before he continues. “Tonight is all about letting loose and having fun.” He raises a champagne flute and the crowd mirrors him by lifting their own chosen beverage in the air.

They all chant their approval as if Simon was the lion on the top of the hill on that big rock.

“I don't think he knows what fun is,” one of the crew members, Mori mumbles from next to Harry and okay, maybe Simon isn't as respected as Mufasa or Simba. In fact he’s pretty sure Simon will never be like them but that is life. The circle of life. He smiles at himself feeling proud of the pun he has come up with. Maybe he will use it one later.

Mori is pinched on the side by his neighbor (Sam, Harry thinks) who looks at him in amusement. Harry has to admit he hit the nail in the head and has to bite his lip not to burst out in a hyena laugh and embarrass his boss in front of a big crowd.

“Come on up everyone who made through tonight’s round,” comes Simon's invitation.

Harry looks around and joins the contestants immediately who appear from all kinds of directions. They climb up on the stage forming a neat line until Aiden and Matt jump up enthusiastically, refusing to stand in line.  Harry squeezes himself between to Zayn and Clarissa from Belle Amie. Liam is uncharacteristically late to join. Matt grabs his arm and squashes him between himself and Aiden.

“I hate this part,” Zayn grumbles with gritted teeth.

Harry nods in approval. “You're telling me. Why are we attractions in the zoo?”

“Beats me.” Zayn chuckles.

Despite his promise Simon still orders them around so they end up forming two parallel lines.

Harry looks to the side and notices Louis chatting animatedly at the far end with Niall. Louis, as if sensing his gaze, cranes his neck and sends him a slow smile before diving back to the conversation. They all stand there like statues in the museum or an old clock at a yard sale.

Then Simon walks up to them one by one, pats people's backs, offering some encouraging words that Harry doesn’t hear but the way each person’s eyes light up is telling enough. A compliment from the cold hearted is like a bar of gold here.

Harry watches Louis, still, fringe moving along with the movement of his hands, they seem to be discussing something so animatedly that it puts a smile on Harry's face.

He misses Louis. Missing your boyfriend is more than normal for new couples, thank you very much.

The thing is they hardly talked since the results came out. It doesn’t help that they were shepherded to all kinds of interviews afterwards, unable to have a moment for themselves. It isn’t like he's feeling miserable if he has to spend an hour without having Louis around but tonight has been emotional and big and everyone seems to get a piece of Louis. He isn't complaining, not really, but wants to be with him, wants to share this with him, the happiness. He wants to share the relief he feels for going through.

He even feels crazy enough to talk about feelings and _I love you’s._

Calm the fuck down. Okay, true, the first _I love you_ isn’t intended for parties where half the people are drunk off their arses. No. He won't be that person. He’ll wait for Louis to finish the obligatory social rounds and will meet him at their table later. Solid plan.

He steps out of the line to make his way to them, unnoticed, he hopes.

A hand landing on his shoulder stops him. He looks up and sees Simon up close.

Very close. 

_Too close_.

“Harry. You did great tonight.” he praises them but all Harry can hear is the obnoxious noises he's is emitting while chewing gum or some sort of nuts. 

“Thank you. The boys were great.” Harry replies, wanting to cut it short.

Simon leans in closer like he wants to share a huge secret with him. “You’re gonna be a star, Harry A huge star. I can feel it.”

Harry is hit with the dizzying smell of alcohol. He has this nagging feeling that the compliments are directed to him only instead of the five of them.       

“Yeah the boys are great,” he reacts, stressing _the boys_ again before subtly turning to his left and to his right, eyes desperately looking for an out but he doesn’t see his bandmates. Where is Zayn? He was there just a moment ago. And Louis? Niall? Liam? 

_Where is everyone?_

Simon squeezes his shoulder and there’s something glinting and twitching in his eyes.

Harry can’t really explain what it is. Call it instinct or whatever but something kicks in his brain whispering _danger._ An uncomfortable feeling starts boiling up making its way under his skin. His forehead gets drenched in sweat, little droplets forming where his forehead meets his hair. He can’t pinpoint what the fuck the ominous feeling is exactly, he only knows he’s never felt this trapped during his sixteen years. Talking to drunk crew members suddenly doesn’t sound half bad. In fact, being anywhere but near Simon sounds like an exceptional and desirable development of events. Even if it means talking to drunk people.

Also, if his bandmates turned up in the next minute from wherever they went Harry swears he will do their laundry for a week. Or two. Or a fucking lifetime. Just someone come and save him, pretty please.

“I’m not talking about the boys.” His prosthetic white teeth are on full display and his smile feels different than any other time before.

Harry looks at him, a frown edging his brows and that sinking feeling only worsens. He feels as if his head was pushed down in ice cold water. The previous panic attack curls over his wrists, crawls back under his skin immobilizing his entire being.

“You will be a star Harry Styles,” Simon states again as if the first time hasn’t been terrifying enough. His stare oozes dominance, like screaming _I have you and you’re mine_ , which is sort of creepy if Harry's being honest.

He knows his boss expects a proper cheerful reaction but he can only concentrate on his breathing and on swallowing down the nausea that's coming up his throat.

_What the fuck is Simon on about?_

It’s one thing that Harry has overcome his own demons but he hasn't been alone in the competition. The other four boys did just as much for the success if not more than him. First of all, _they_ are the true naturals and not him only because _they_ didn’t have fears to overcome, unlike Harry. Niall’s cubophobia doesn’t count because it wasn't related to singing. 

Secondly, they are a fucking group and the nice words shouldn't be directed to him only. Frankly, the least Simon could’ve done is to gather them all together and compliment the entire band instead of singling him out with these creepy comments.

Simon casts one last pointed look at him and presses his shoulder blade again. Harry’s stomach churns from the not so subtle demonstration of power.

Then it's over as fast as it started and Simon hops to the next person and Harry is still far from okay because what the actual fuck has just happened but he feels like he can breathe again.

He stumbles down the stage and sighs at the realisation that he yet again has to make his way through the sea of people to reach the tables. He accidentally knocks a person off their feet and grabs their arm to keep them safe. When they turn around he apologizes profoundly. It’s Marie.

“Nice show!” Harry yells over the music and hugs her with one arm.

“Thank you Haz, you did great as well.”

“Have you seen the boys?”

She bites her lip. “I think I saw Zayn and Louis leave.” Harry’s forehead creases into a frown. “Probably just for a breather, it’s pretty packed here tonight,” Marie clarifies.

“Yeah, I noticed. Is it always like that?”

“Nope. But I heard they gave out free tickets to a bunch of voters.”

“Oh.” Harry’s frown clears. “That explains it then.”

“You wanna dance?”

No, he doesn’t want to dance. He scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe later?”     

“Okay then, but if you don't keep your promise I’ll come and drag you here myself. See ya!”

He steps away from Marie and allows a guy to take his place. The guy sways a bit closer than it’s considered _friendly_ but Marie doesn’t seem to mind.

He spots Liam waving to him from a tall round table and strolls towards his direction. When he gets there he settles opposite to him, resting his elbows on the tall table. His gaze immediately lands on the plate with the cakes Louis brought. He watches it with a smile.       

“You don't plan to drink that do you?” Liam asks, a hint of disapproval in his voice.

“What?” Harry lifts his head and notices his bandmate motioning towards the beer mug which is sat next to the plate.

“You’ve been eyeing that beer as if you were hypnotized.”

“Nah. Don't worry. It’s just the cake." He looks back at the stage and sees Louis gone. "Do you know where Louis went?”

“I think I saw him and Zayn talking outside. Niall’s probably where the food is.”

Harry giggles. “That’s true.” 

"And Louis.. god knows what he's doing."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He must be scheming something bad, he's always doing that."

"Yeah."

Liam narrows his eyes. “Do you think they are scheming something bad which will kick us out of the competition?”

"--Wha-- No, I was only joking."

“Oh god, you know something. Stop him, Harry. Only you can. What if we're already fired and we don't even know about it?"          

“What? Liam. Why would Simon fire us?”       

“I don't know but.. this is important to me, you know?

 _No shit._  “Yeah, I know. It is to me as well.”

And it’s true. Something changed in Harry tonight and the thought of going back to his old life scares the shit out of him. The fact that he calls it old life should be telling enough. “Tonight it feels more real than ever,” he adds barely above a whisper.           

“What is real?” Louis comes up from behind and wraps his hands around his waist.

The mere contact of Louis’ skin on his is immediately calming. “Just that the competition is important for us.” He turns his head towards Louis, resting his gaze on him, letting himself get lost in the azure eyes, he can't not stare at him.

Louis places his chin on his shoulder and nods. “Of course it is, we wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Louis says half-loudly, lips very close to Harry’s nose.         

“That means you have to behave Louis.”

Harry feels Louis’ body stiffen and he swears the temperature has just dropped a few degrees. If Liam wanted to push Louis’ buttons, he possessed the talent to find the right ones.          

“Wow Payno. You ever had fun in your life?” Louis challenges him and they both end up in an staredown so intense that Louis even removes his chin from Harry’s shoulder which _heeeyyy._

Harry’s watching the two boys nervously and sighs at how stupid he was for believing that days that start out bad would turn out great by the end. Whatever success they had with the performance is long forgotten and the proof is in front of him as Liam’s intense brown eyes throw daggers at Louis.

“Yes. On stage, a.k.a. I want to stay and I don’t want to lose just because there’s someone who takes everything lightly and has no idea about hard work.” 

Harry turns his head slowly and can see Louis’ cheeks color in shades of red he didn't know existed before.

Louis waits a few beats before he reacts. “I’d rather have fun than be a dick and pry into something I know nothing about.”

Liam Payne is Harry’s least favorite person in the world.

“You’re dragging everyone else with you.” Liam grits out with venom.   

“Heyyy.” Harry complains but the two boys ignore him.            

Louis scoffs. “You’re gonna charge them every time they laugh?”           

“You think you’re funny but you’re not.”

“I think it must hurt to walk with a stick so high up your arse.”           

“Okay I’m done here. Goodnight Harry.” Liam fumes before he turns on his heels and walks away.

Harry wants to wrap Louis in a blanket and take him home and he's so proud of Louis for standing up for himself. He always admired the people who did it, so confident and straightforward. One look at him confirms that not everything is as it seems. Louis as if feeling Harry's penetrating gaze drops his head down. His breathing turns quick and shallow. Harry reaches for his hand but realizes Louis has his hands in an iron fist.

“Hey,” Harry whispers.

“No. Just--” Louis shakes his head. “He's right.” He speaks slowly and sounds collected but Harry knows him better than that. His voice is an octave higher and it's not trembling per se but it's scratchy.

“The fuck he is.” And it's true. Liam was being so unfair. He knows nothing if he thinks Louis is anything like that. Harry feels so damn angry on his behalf but he can't have the luxury to be angry when Louis is obviously this distressed so he puts his anger aside and thinks about something that will push Louis’ back to his cheery self.

It's really hard to think though because the music is blaring and pulsating in Harry's body. He doesn't even know what to say. He’s simply shit with words. Always has been.       

He can’t make those hurtful words unsaid. “Lou. You know it isn't true… what he just said.” he whispers into Louis’ ear.           

“It doesn't matter, does it? He still thinks I don't give a flying fuck about anything.”           

“I don't think he really means it Lou. He’ll come around... I hope.” _He'd better do_. Harry presses his finger to Louis’ chin, gently lifting his head up. “Don't listen to him, okay? You're amazing. Everyone knows it and he’ll see it too.”  

“Fat chance but thanks love.” Louis forces out a smile.

“Do you want to dance?” Harry blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

Louis shakes his head. “Sweetheart you know I hate to say no to you but no dancing tonight, please.” Louis replies softly, resting a hand on Harry's shoulder. “Anything but dancing, okay?”   

“Do you want to go back to our room? Away from people?”

At that moment Aiden and Matt come up to them looking out of breath. Did they sprint all the way here?

“Louis! Louis! Thank God we found you. We need you, man. We’re one player down!”

_They say it as if the world stopped spinning. Are they ever gonna get bored of FIFA?_

“Yeah we can’t have Luke beat us again.” Matt adds breathlessly. “Please.”

Louis was looking at them with apathy but at the mere mention of Luke who beat them last time his eyes light up and Harry can clearly see he wants to go with them but he's battling in the inside.

Everyone is waiting for his reply. Louis chews on his lip. “I can’t, sorry. I already promised Harry that I would stay with him.”

“You can go.” Harry blurts out.           

Louis whips his head at him, worry lines replacing the smoothness of his forehead. “No, come on, a promise is a promise, Haz,” he whispers. He takes his hand and walks him a few steps away where they can have a semblance of privacy. “You have first dibs.”

“We can spend the whole day together tomorrow and you can make it up to me, okay?” Harry whispers back.

A deep frown creases between Louis’ eyebrows, calling Harry’s bluff right away and for the first time Harry curses their connection and their ability to read each other without speaking. He collects his features, not letting even just mild disappointment show in his voice. “Yeah.”

Louis’ frown deepens. “Are you sure?” he asks and they start making their way back to their table.

 _Am I sure? No._ “Positive.”

“Who’s pregnant?” Niall arrives just in time and greets them with a friendly pat on Aiden’s back.

Harry lets out a boisterous laugh which he's pretty sure would make a hyena run for its money. He appreciates good jokes, sue him. “No one,” he replies trying to catch his breath between two chuckles. He turns back to Louis. “Go, yeah? I’ll have Niall with me.”

Louis nods towards Niall while still looking at Harry. “Take his food away when it's too much, don't let him throw up again.”

“I won’t.”

“Tomorrow. I’m yours.” Louis whispers back, lips grazing Harry’s. And this. This is what Harry's been missing. _HarryandLouis_. Being in their own bubble whispering sweet nothings, exchanging kisses that got heated and made him do reckless stuff.           

He leans forward to pull Louis closer by the nape of his neck and nibbles at his upper lip. “Is that a proposition?”

Louis’ body goes completely still, and if that's even possible, it gets more still than he was after the fight with Liam. Harry looks at him and has to gulp at the serious expression Louis is wearing and in that moment he knows he’s fucked up and swears he can see their magic bubble pop and dissolve completely.

Louis pulls away and takes a step back from him. His jaw tightens and his eyes flash in warning. “Harry.” His voice is cold and distant.

Fuck.

Harry wants to bang his head against the closest wall. He opens his mouth wanting to clear up this misunderstanding and tell Louis he’s only joking but Louis is looking at him pointedly, gaze penetrating through him, seeing right through him, knowing very well he wasn't joking. 

The worst thing is that Harry knows really fucking well it isn’t a joke and has no idea why he still said it apart from the obvious that he's horny and wants Louis all the time but he should’ve known it was a stupid move. They argued about it once and Harry the smart boy he was never brought it up again. Until now. He suddenly feels too young because seriously, who provokes devoted loving boyfriends with topics that have been sensitive from the very beginning? Only an undeserving and immature person, that’s who.           

Louis keeps staring, making Harry feel naked and exposed under the scrutiny. His instinct to fight or flight kicks in. He swallows, takes one step forward to close the unwanted distance. He lands against Louis’ chest and hides his face in his T-shirt, arms wrapping around his back.

The hug isn't reciprocated. Harry feels half of him die at the realization. He buries his body into Louis’ even more, stepping between his legs, bending his knees and shrinking into him, trying to take up as little space as possible. “Sorry.” He mumbles and waits for Louis to touch him back but that doesn’t happen, Louis _still_ hasn’t touched him and hasn’t pulled him close like he usually did when he said something stupid. He gulps and chances a peek up at him.

Louis is already tilting his head down at him, unblinking, as if he’s searching for something. Harry wants to show with every fiber of his body that he understands him, that sex isn't everything, that he respects Louis’ wish and will wait for him for as long as he wants.        

Louis sighs heavily but the edges of his lips lift a bit and that's already enough for Harry. It's like a drop of water in the desert. Louis lets out a small smile and pulls Harry closer by the waist. He isn't talking until he has Harry’s full attention. “Tomorrow okay?”

Harry doesn’t trust his voice enough to speak so he only nods into the embrace. He hugs Louis tighter, nails digging in the flesh below his t-shirt, fingers tracing _sorrysorrysorry_ on the soft skin.   

“I’m gonna be all yours.” Louis says again, eyes challenging Harry as if to test him, as if to dare him to joke again with his no-sex-until-seventeen rule.

But Harry is a smart boy and won't fall for it, he learned not to touch hot things that burned, not to open the door to strangers and not to whine about sex.

Or lack thereof.           

Okay, technically this is the second time he brought it up but he sure as hell won't do it again for the third time. Unless Louis initiates it. Then he will be happy to discuss it. Until then it’s a huge no-no. It has already caused enough tension between them. God. Harry _hates_ arguing with him. They barely do, most of it is bickering and that's the spice, the extra layer of cheese on the pizza, it’s what makes everything exciting, and it usually happens when they're tired. But seeing Louis sad because of a stupid throwaway comment feels like a bucket full of jalapeno pushed down his throat with no water in sight.

He _needs_ to know if they are okay and a smiling Louis would be a good start. He _craves_ to hear Louis’ laugh, but doesn’t know how to make that happen, because he has no idea how hurt Louis is. Is it time for joking or banter yet or will Louis be angry at him for much longer? He feels like a blind man trying to tread the water between the angry waves. He can’t take not talking to Louis for much longer, they _have_ to be in the banter phase. They _have_ to be. He decides to go for banter because Louis did smile earlier. Okay only a small one but that still counts.

Three. Two. One. And it’s out with a deep breath. “No, you’re mine either way.”  He plasters on a mostly shaky smile and waits for Louis’ reaction with bated breath.   

Relief washes over Louis’ face, shoulders relaxing visibly.

Banter they can do, in fact they excel at it and Harry finally feels like he can breathe.

“Possessive much?” It’s only a small twitch in Louis’ eye that could be easily missed by anyone but Harry catches it.

_An oasis in the desert._

Louis has a sardonic smile, but his eyes hold a glint of humor. He isn't his previous cheery self yet, but he teases Harry and touches him and Harry can take a teasing Louis any day of the week.           

“Like you’ve got room to talk.”           

The comment gets Louis to shut up, probably remembering all the times he’s acted jealous. He stretches on his tiptoes to give Harry a kiss. “I meant no distractions.” He mumbles into Harry’s mouth.           

“I know.”

A slow smile works its way across Louis’ face, genuine this time. His shoulders finally relax while pressing their foreheads together. 

A polite cough reminds them they're very much not alone.           

Louis nods towards Aiden and Matt and his lips form a quiet _Sure?_ to which Harry nods happily. Louis then turns towards his soon-to-be FIFA mates. “So who needs the Tommo?” He yells.

“We need the Tommo!” Aiden and Matt chant their reply in unison.           

“Then what are we waiting for?” Louis yells louder.

Before Harry has time to blink he feels lips on his own and then they leave.

 

*

 

“So another week in this hellhole.” Niall mock-complains.

“And another week of practicing in ugly studios and living in a shoebox.” Harry plays along.

“Why are we even here?”

“Beats me.”

Niall pulls out a mini ice cream box from the pocket of his hoodie. 

“Ni, seriously? They should lock food from you.” Harry comments with an amused expression. His eyebrows jerk up when Niall pulls out a mini spoon from his pocket.

Niall grins. “At least the shoebox part is true but the food is the worst.” He sucks the pink ice cream with a content hum. 

“Right, I can only imagine.” Harry chuckles and catches Niall’s gaze landing on his and Louis’ cakes and swiftly pulls the plate closer to himself. This hungry leprechaun hasn't even finished his ice cream, he's already targeting their cakes. Goddamn. Harry doesn't want to take any chances so he shovels down the rest of his chocolate cake with the speed of light. The only thing left on the plate is Louis’ Black Forest and the white chocolate rose, still untouched by Harry.

“Are you going to eat that?” Niall asks with his mouth full, waving his spoon towards the rose. He accidentally drops the spoon which of course smudges Harry’s rose.

Harry flinches in mortification when the molten drop of pink ice cream lands on the petals of the perfect white chocolate creation. He bats Niall’s hand away. “Yes! Go and get your own because this is mine.”

Niall pulls the spoon back. “I can’t. There's no more chocolate cakes left. I didn’t even know there was chocolate until I saw yours.” he pouts looking at Harry with puppy dog eyes.  

“Oh.” He looks at the rose and turns to his bandmate, guilt spreading through his veins. “Maybe I can share it with you?” he offers but it pains him to say the words out loud and it sounds like he's gritting them out of his teeth. Maybe he is.           

Niall lights up like a Christmas tree and fuck if he isn’t the cutest. “You sure?”           

Harry nods more frantically this time because who can say no to a hungry Niall when he's looking at you like the cat from Shrek? Harry notices someone approach from his peripheral vision. “Oh no,” he groans. Fuck, he forgot about the dance.                

Niall turns around and cackles. “It’s just Marie. Hey hi Marie!”

“Hey you two. Enjoying the party?” She stands next to Niall and places her colorful cocktail on the table.

Harry watches the water droplets race down the side of the glass before forming a growing puddle on the table. Marie lifts the glass and puts it back in the puddle.  _Coasters_ , Harry wants to shriek but he bites his lip. He learned to bite his tongue way too many times when it came to being tidy, because it turned out he had too radical thoughts about cleaning and keeping things neat compared to literally any human being. Nevertheless, his bandmates are on a whole new level when it comes to making a mess.

“Yes.” Niall replies and nods towards him.

Harry has no idea what they are talking about and leaves his gaze on Niall, willing him to clue him in, but he isn’t helpful. He then looks at Marie who tilts her head towards him with a genuine smile.           

“I was promised a dance by someone.”

Harry looks behind himself for a moment. “Oh really? I don't see anyone here.” 

A small fist lands on his chest. “You jerk!” She shrieks but her expression isn't offended.

“Well, I’m a man of my word.” Harry offers his outstretched arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” She giggles and he leads her to the mass of dancing people.

They find a fairly isolated place in the other end of the room where less sweaty bodies sway around holding their drinks. Marie is doing the silliest dance moves and when he shows her the robotic move a small hand covers his eyes. His heart rate picks up at the mere thought of Louis finally coming back and he giggles. Yes, he fucking giggles, shoot him. He keeps his lids closed, enjoying the suspense. “Hey, how was FIFA?”

The hands covering his eyes disappear. Harry breathes in alcoholic scent and scrunches his nose. He slowly opens his eyes, inspecting him from head to toe, starting from his shoes to reach maximum dramatic effect. He spots black sneakers and he’s pretty sure those weren't Louis’ choice of footwear tonight. In fact, now that he thinks about it, the smell of alcohol also isn't a Louis thing.

He whips his head up with a frown and he can hardly stop his lips from curling down because the person standing in front of him isn't Louis.

It’s Kevin, the sound tech guy.

A twenty year old boy who’s been hitting on him from the very beginning. They met at the first sound check and hit it off immediately. At least that's what Harry thought until Zayn came up to him. “ _It must be hard for him_ .” And Harry replied “ _yeah those headlights weigh a lot”_ . Zayn looked at him as if he’s grown a second head and bursted out laughing. “ _Seriously Hazza, you don’t even see it?_ ” And Harry felt really fucking dumb and replied “ _See what?_ ” Zayn just looked at him pointedly as if saying “ _how do you not see it_.” 

And then Harry saw it. He figured it out eventually and after that he couldn’t even believe how oblivious he’s been to the casual-looking touches that lingered a beat longer, the looks he suddenly felt naked under, the eyes lighting up every time they talked. After Zayn's comment Harry felt each one of them, maybe even the innocent ones. Things turned awkward quickly. He didn't fancy talking to Kevin anymore and avoided him whenever he could. Don't get him wrong, Kevin was a nice guy and maybe decent boyfriend material but Harry really hated those people who hit on people who were already taken.

Kevin waves at him with an enthusiastic smile.

Harry trains his features to look slightly less bothered. He can't blame Kevin for being disappointed. The poor guy couldn't know that Harry had been waiting for Louis to come back-- but that’s little consolation to him. “Hi Kevin. Lovely night?”           

Kevin practically swims in the attention, eyes shining brighter than headlights.

Marie grabs Harry’s elbow. “I'm thirsty, Haz.”

Harry looks at her in confusion and catches her wink.

 _Oh._           

“Yeah let’s.. let’s. Go,” he stutters, nodding towards Marie. He turns back to Kevin and looks at him with a _women, what can you do_ expression and an innocent shrug.

Marie drags him away and walks him towards their table. “You looked like you needed saving,” she whispers.

“Thank you.”

Marie only giggles at that. “You’re welcome. Now you owe me a dance _and_ a drink.”

“Hey, you got your dance and I’m pretty sure I remember you walking around with a colorful cocktail not long ago.”           

“Oh right. I forgot about it.”           

Harry looks at her with an amused expression. “Are you sure it was alcohol free?”           

“Not really.” She giggles again.           

It's only Niall waiting for them at the table. There's no sign of Louis. Harry trains his gaze on the crowd, stretching his neck as if Louis’ head would pop up in any moment.      

“Mate, you need to get a grip.”           

Harry sighs and buries his face in his hand. “I know.”

“He has it bad doesn't he?”

Harry grunts, still not looking up. “Marie you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on your side, Haz. I’m always on the side of love.”

“Are you mocking me? Stop mocking me.” Harry drops his hands from his face and growls.           

“I’m not.”

“You're not? Oh, sorry the-”

“Alright maybe a little bit.” She snickers.        

“You’re too easy.” Niall pats him on the back. “Seriously, you’re so on edge mate, you need to relax. What’s getting your pants in a twist? Relax. We’re through to the next round and safe for another week. He’ll come back after he beats the shit out of them at FIFA.”           

Harry chuckles. Damn right Louis kicks arse at FIFA but Niall has a point there, or points. Harry doesn’t know why he’s on edge, but he’s sure as soon as Louis turns up he will be alright again. “You’re right. Okay.”

“Besides, you’ll go back to ignoring the world, when he’s back. You’ll be stuck in your bubble so you might as well enjoy your limited time with me.”

Harry slaps his arm playfully. “Hey we’re never ignoring you.”

Okay.

Maybe they are.

Sometimes.

 

Things get worse one hour later. The dance floor has almost emptied, only the diehard party goers stay, throwing their hands up to the rhythm, revealing unidentified wet spots under their armpits. _Ew._ Harry really would love to go back and _ignore the world_ but there’s a tiny, itty bitty, 5’9 feet tall problem to be exact, because Louis still hasn’t come back.

“We didn't beat that dick Luke!” An inebriated Savan yells.

And yes! Louis’ game is finally over.

"See ya at home!" Harry turns on his heels to head towards the game room.           

He swings the door open and walks in. His smile melts away when he realizes that none of the people inside are Louis and his expression rearranges into a frown. He walks up to the two boys, who pause the game and look up at him expectantly. “Hey have you seen Louis?”           

“Yeah.”

“He was here an hour ago, right?” He nods towards his mate.           

“Yeah.”

“Where is he now?”

“Dunno mate, sorry. Maybe they're smoking outside.”

“Er, thanks. Have a good game.” he sends a little wave from the door before he slowly closes it.

He steps out of the backdoor of the studio, the cold immediately hitting his face, matching his mood perfectly. He spots a few people scattered around. They chat loudly, waving with one hand, cigarette in the other. He spots Aiden and makes a beeline to join him, keeping his head down because he’s simply not in the mood for small talk.           

“Hey.” He squeezes himself next to Aiden quietly, not wanting to stop the conversation. 

“Haz?” Aiden turns to him with a surprised expression. “I thought you were with Louis.”

 _That makes two of us._ “No, he.. I haven't seen him actually.”

“What?” Aiden frowns, the cigarette hangs dumbly from his lips. “I thought it would only take a few minutes.”

“Thought _what_ would take a few minutes?”     

“It's a who, actually, Melanie. She asked for Louis. We paused the game but he hasn't come back since. And of course Lucas said it’s two against two instead three and we lost because Matt couldn’t score that damn penalty. I was sure Louis went back to you.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t pushed the controller out of my hand in the moment I wanted to kick the ball I would have had a chance to score.”

Harry didn’t even see when Matt approached them.

“I told you I was sorry.”

“Yeah but we still lost.” Matt looks at Aiden pointedly and he pouts in return.

Frankly, Harry doesn’t have time for this. He resists the urge to stomp his feet and turns towards Matt, maybe he knows more. “Have you seen Louis?”           

Matt only shakes his head.

“Great.” Harry squeezes his eyes shut.           

“Maybe he’s back at the house. My ride’s here in,” he glances at his watch, “five minutes. You wanna join?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Harry replies numbly.           

The ride is long and boring and bumpy and Harry can’t even drift off to sleep because his chest feels so heavy with worry, that ominous feeling worming its way back underneath his skin. It's making him uneasy and reckless. He taps his foot against the car mat, beating a faster rhythm than a clock’s pendulum as if to will the time to fucking pass faster and slow down as soon as he finds Louis.

That’s pretty much all he wants and a good night’s sleep finally, thank you.

 

*

 

He swings the car door open when they finally pull in the driveway and rushes towards the front door, taking two steps at a time. The place seems rather empty, it seems like most of the people are still at the party. He finds Wagner in the kitchen drinking milk from the carton. “Nice show. Have you seen Louis?” he asks breathlessly, holding his side to soothe the stitching pain.

“Your Louis?” Wagner looks at him deep in thought. “No, I don’t think I saw him.”

Harry flops down on the barstool.           

“Maybe he arrived before I did. I didn't go upstairs yet, but it’s very quiet. I think I would hear him from London if he was here.” Wagner wonders.

Maybe _his_ Louis indeed arrived unnoticed and went straight to bed, too exhausted to go back to the studio and say goodbye to him. That's possible. Right? After all, they had a very draining day. Why say goodbye at the party when Harry would show up at home eventually? People did that right? He had a long day.

That’s all.

 

*

 

Harry goes upstairs and inspects every corner of the house. When he opens the door to their bedroom he finds Liam but there’s no sign of the other boys. It’s almost midnight when Niall arrives with Marie and Zayn in tow. Harry waits for a second for Louis to come up behind them, but he doesn't.

Forty four minutes later (not that he counted), he grabs a pair of boxer briefs and a plain white t-shirt. He gets his phone from his discarded jeans and flops down on the bed. He lies on his back, resting it on his chest and although he wants to stay awake for when Louis arrives, he slowly drifts off to sleep.

 

He wakes up to his heart beating so hard he has to sit up and rest his head on his knees.

_3:32. A.M._

Fuck.

He knows himself well enough that once he wakes up in the middle of the night it is almost impossible to get back to sleep. It's his second night in a row when he's not getting any sleep. Fabulous.

He turns his phone towards Louis’ bunk to check on him and he has to look up and blink back the tears to get them where they fucking belong because Louis is there, sleeping but he's _there!_  

Harry can’t believe he’s back and he’s okay. He needs to touch him, feel him, needs the the air to reach his lungs again. He grabs a pillow, phone and duvet then slides off the bed and pads towards Louis. If he had an inch of common sense he would be worried about how much he’s missed him but he doesn’t have any. He launches himself next to him and clutches his arm around his waist, his own heart beating so fucking fast it hurts. He tries to take deep breaths, like Savan taught him, but they come out too shaky to even phantom calming him down. He tangles their legs together, wanting Louis as close as it’s physically possible. He kisses his bare shoulder and buries his nose in his back.

Louis doesn’t even wake up, he’s dead weight asleep.

Harry breathes his scent in as he waits for his own breathing to even out and his body to drift off to a deep slumber.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading it! If you liked it please leave kudos, comments and reblog the original tumblr post:  
> [here](http://tellmethisisnotlove.tumblr.com/post/160836573499/tellmethisisnotlove-title-just-ask-me-to)  
> See you next Friday! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In simple words: Shit's going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jay's in here, I couldn't cut her out. I just couldn't. RIP.

Harry flicks his lids open all of a sudden and tries to will his tired brain to find the reason that woke him up. It takes him a moment to realise he's trembling and his teeth are clattering. He suspects _that's_ what woke him.

He blinks once trying to adjust to the semi-darkness and takes in his surroundings. Barely there streetlight coming from his right. Loud snoring in the room. Light snoring by his side. A Louis-shaped warm body by his side.

He’s in Louis’ bed, that he recognises immediately, although to be exact he’s on the brink of falling from it.

He feels the blush rising into his cheeks when he recalls sneaking in the bed after three fucking AM and bites his lip to contain the smile sneaking on his lips at the memory.

Louis turns on his side, facing him now, still asleep.

Harry wraps his arms around him tighter, clutching him like those cheap fluffy koala bears. Their chests rise and fall together with every new breath they take.

He's having a hard time deciding if he wants to get back to sleep or stay awake and just admire what Louis is like-- he's kinda beautiful, especially in the morning. He still makes Harry so overwhelmed, it's like Harry suddenly doesn't have enough fingers to touch, enough time to discover all the spots on Louis’ cheeks, enough words to describe his _softsoftsoft_ hair. He reaches out and sweeps the fringe off his forehead, thumb tracing the soft skin of his cheek, lingering there a bit longer than necessary. He can't help but smile, Louis’ just so eternally beautiful.

That's when a shiver reminds him of the original problem, his missing blanket and he doesn't need to look long, even with the moonlight barely spilling over the room, he easily spots his own cover tangled around Louis’ body. He smiles again, not surprised the least.

The thing is, Louis is like a bloody cat most of the time: he likes using Harry like a personal furnace, even though he deems Harry's body heat enough usually and doesn’t need to steal blankets.

_He has me._

Harry can’t resist the urge to brush his thumb against the warm skin of Louis’ cheek and lets out a small smile when he feels the puff of air tickle his own face. He's just so pretty. Harry knows he must look like a lovesick idiot but he doesn't care. He can’t help it, he loves watching Louis sleep.

Especially when he sleeps next to him.           

Even with the tendency to hog his cover, Harry wouldn't change a thing.         

He untangles his duvet successfully without waking Louis up then curls it around his body, hoping it'll warm up quickly.

He feels at ease. With Louis next to him everything is right again and on top of it, they prolonged their stay in the competition by one more week.

That’s all that matters.  

It seems days that start out shitty do have the potential to end well.

        

*

 

To say that Louis is loud the next day is an understatement.

“You won't catch me, wanker!” he yells in Niall’s direction.

Not that he hasn’t been loud before, but he’s being exceptionally loud now. Even for him.

“Dream on Tommo!” Niall yells back without missing a beat.           

Harry only opens his eyes for a second, but that's still enough to see that the source of this havoc he's woken up to is Niall and Louis. Chasing each other.

It’s too fucking early to have them screaming and running around the room.

Harry drops his head back and rubs his face against the warm pillow.

“Give it back,” Niall shouts while Louis rolls the nightstand in his direction, making him squeal.

It seems Harry has no other option but to to wave getting his sleeping schedule back on track goodbye.      

 _You’ll sleep when you’re dead, Styles._           

“Never!” Louis yells back just as loud.

_When you're dead, Styles. When you're dead._

He wanted to sleep in just once, even dared to imagine how amazing it would be to wake up no earlier than eight and just lie around lazily like they do after every live show. He's pretty sure he still has a bit more time left to sleep in because it can’t be earlier than half eight.

How does he know that?

Because one, Louis is up and two, Louis is up.           

He arses to reach out to his phone which he laid on the ground next to the bed. It informs him it’s--

_6:52 AM._

_The fuck?_

This can’t be right. How the fuck was Louis physically able to get up this early? Or did he not sleep at all? But he was sound asleep when Harry went to him and judging by his morning energy he seems to be just fine. Good for him.

Harry can't say the same.

Why is Louis up though? He almost positively never gets up before him and even those three times it _did_ happen he stayed in bed _with him_ waiting _for_ him to wake up. He behaved well too, busying himself with Smurfs and catching up with his mum while his sisters were asleep. He only started to pull Harry’s eyelids up when he got bored.

Could be considered a bad way to wake up, but Harry didn’t mind. Not one bit. Because he got to open his eyes to _blueblueblue._

_My favorite._

A clattering sound takes him back to reality and the empty space next to him. He turns on his side and tries to adjust to the light and the noise level. From the sounds he hears, it's not hard to know Louis is causing more chaos than ever but if Harry was asked to list what exactly he's doing he would fail because the thing is... Louis is wearing that black t-shirt that's not quite reaching his waist and joggers that lay low on his hips, revealing his cute tummy.

Harry loves burying his nose into that tummy; it became part of their morning routine after one time Louis woke him up and he pretended to be asleep and when Louis the least expected it he opened his eyes and targeted his tummy with butterfly kisses, quickly turning him into a giggling mess. Since then burying his nose into that tummy while holding him down became routine. Harry loves kissing the skin wet while Louis keeps begging him to stop, but also loves the morning kisses he gets after he stops and pretty much everything that comes afterwards.

Which consists of basically anything but what’s happening in front of his very eyes.

This morning is not like any other morning. Today there’re no morning kisses. No whispered _good mornings._ No _‘did you sleep well?’_ No nuzzling noses into his neck and eyelids and the back of his ear.

“Give my phone back, Louis.” Niall growls.

No Louis whining ‘ _wake up I want to cuddle. You're no fun sleeping.’_ Nothing.

Louis sprints out of the room, bare feet padding soundlessly on the floor, arse jiggling in a way that’s making Harry bend his head to the side for better view. _Habits, ha._

“Give it back, Lou.”                

To no one’s surprise, Niall’s request falls on deaf ears. Liam barks out a loud laugh and Harry’s lips quirk up in amusement.

Louis speeds up and places himself behind Liam. Then Liam steps aside and lifts both hands in the air. “I’m neutral.”           

Harry narrows his eyes at the _traitor_ the same way Louis does and the action distracts him from the chase completely.

The next thing Harry sees is Niall pushing Louis down and straddling his waist. He rolls them over but Louis seems to be more prepared this time and manages to crawl out of his grasp.

Harry smiles proudly. His boy is smart.

Niall halts, panting and looks at Louis warily, waiting for his next move.

Then as if to an invisible start gun they both go back to chasing each other. Harry watches them leave the room just to come sprinting back. Then they leave again but only Louis comes back. He Louis plops down on Liam’s bed, panting.

“Give it back Tommo!” Niall’s unmistakable voice can be heard from outside the room.

Louis jumps out of the bed and looks around frantically, in search of a hiding place.

Harry wants to catch his attention but he can't seem to get it which, wow.

Eventually, just in time for Niall to miss him, Louis climbs on the top bunk and holds the phone up in victory.

Niall comes in the room with a deep sigh and takes one step on the ladder but before his leg touches the second one he hesitates and climbs down, deciding it’s better (read: safer) to wait for Louis on the floor.

“What’re you hiding in here Ni?” Louis asks, flipping the phone open with a smirk.

“Nothing,” Niall growls and slumps on his own bunk. “Just give it back,” he adds tiredly.

At that, Louis’ eyes dart between the phone and him then lays back against the wall and starts pushing the buttons with a mischievous expression. He licks his upper lip like the cat that got the canary, ready for finding whatever secret Niall is hiding.

Harry glances at Niall who just sits there helplessly, with his elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands.

Then there's one point when Louis seems to find what he’s been looking for, his gaze suddenly grows more focused and he goes unusually quiet. He looks down at Niall with a frown. “Did you---” he asks in a soft voice that lacks any trace of mocking.

Niall nods his head slowly.

“Did he what?” Liam shrieks.

Louis climbs down and places the phone in a very unsuspecting Niall’s palm. He only speaks when he has Niall’s full attention. “They’re good.”        

“Er. T-thanks?” Niall’s cheeks visibly redden at the compliment.

“That’s it?” Liam protests. “What was in it?”

“None of your business,” Louis replies. “Mister Neutral.”

Liam opens his mouth to speak but Louis passes by him, deeming the conversation over by retreating to the bathroom.

Liam turns to Niall then Harry. “Why can he know and I can't?”

Harry shrugs. He's not sure Niall ever gives him a reply because Louis is walking in his direction and he has all of his attention.

Scratch that, he’s walking to the bathroom.

Huh. _Okay. Calm the fuck down. Maybe he'll say good morning after he comes out._

“What time do we have choreo?” Someone asks and even if it was Santa himself, Harry doesn’t  care, keeping his gaze permanently fixed on the bathroom door.

“Zayn, thank God!” Liam squeals so loud, it snaps Harry out of his trance. Liam then steps in front of Zayn who flushes at the sudden attention on him and looks around with a raised brow. ”What do people write in their phones?”

The question takes him by surprise as expected, and he just stares at Liam, confused. “What?”

“What do you write in your phone?” Liam repeats, a bit more impatient this time.

“Er..” Zayn pauses a fraction of a second before his eyes light up. “The shopping list.”

Liam creases his brow. “Why don't you write it on paper?” The _like everyone else_ is only implied.

Zayn crosses his arms at his chest protectively. “Because I don't wanna lose it. And why would I put it on paper that I can lose when I can type it in the phone which is always with me?”

Liam ponders about it for a bit then lifts his hands in frustration. “Argh you're no help,” he groans and leaves the still confused Zayn in the doorway.

“What’s with him?” Zayn asks looking at Harry with wide eyes.           

Niall beats Harry with the answer. “Wants to know what I have in my phone.”

“And what do you have in your phone?”        

“Not telling you.”

“Oh.” Zayn’s cheeks turn beet red. “Sorry.”

Right in this moment Louis emerges from the bathroom and pads to the cabinet. He opens it and stands there browsing for clothes with his hips cocked. He puts a fresh t-shirt and jeans on.

Harry sits up straighter.

Louis then goes to the nightstand, right next to Harry before briefly glancing at him. For the first time in the morning. Took his time, for sure but that doesn't matter now because-- _Finally._

Louis leans in.

 _Fucking finally._            

Harry’s so ready to feel him after such a wild and weird night and he's more than eager to steal him for the whole day and spend some time outside of the house, alone, far from fans and curious eyes.

He lets out a groan the very moment he sniffs Louis' aftershave and grabs the nape of his neck with one hand and his waist with another. He pulls him with so much force that they almost collapse on each other which he wouldn't mind but he loses all of his senses when he can finally feel Louis’ breath of air against his skin. It tingles his cheek and he's pretty sure he's giggling, he's feeling light and happy and hot all over and they haven't even kissed yet.  

He puckers his lips and closes his eyes releasing a content hum when he feels the barely-there brush of Louis’ soft lips on his.

 _More more more._            

He digs his fingers into Louis’ scalp a bit deeper and ducks his head down. At first it's only their teeth meeting because Harry's smiling so wide that it's impossible to kiss like that. Louis keeps giving him small pecks on the lips and Harry frowns before ducking Louis’ head even closer.

He wants more than pecks, he wants _more_. With Louis he always wants _more_.

He licks into Louis’ mouth to deepen the kiss, so ready to taste him, he _needs_ to taste him after such a stupid night, but Louis’ lips instead of opening to make the kiss deeper instead drop a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead before pulling away completely a beat later.

Harry squints one eye open and reaches out to Louis but he’s grabbing air. What the-- He flicks both of his eyes open just in time to catch Louis’ retreating body before it disappears in the bathroom again.

A stinging feeling creeps up to his chest.

“Lyrics.” comes from the just entering Liam. “It must be lyrics! He saw your great lyrics, he liked them and he shut up because he realised they were good and he gave your phone back. They must be lyrics! I'm a genius!”           

“Liam, let it go.” Niall replies, in a tired and unimpressed voice.

Louis’ head pops up from the bathroom door. “Stop guessing,” he replies in a garbled voice, toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Will you tell me if I get it right?” Liam asks.

Louis closes the door after him. Niall only smirks.

“You will. Okay good.” Liam practically jumps in happiness.   

“I most _definitely_ didn’t say that.”           

“Come on that's not fair.” Liam whines, stopping mid-air.

 

*

 

“I hear you're up.” Savan’s head pops up in the doorway. “Come meet me downstairs.”

Harry looks at himself and groans loudly. Watching Louis all morning was definitely a good idea, but it hasn't been very productive. All of them are ready for the day and he’s still in boxer briefs.

He yanks his duvet away and manages to get his arse out of bed just in time to catch an empty bathroom. Huh. Being the last one does have its perks.

Empty, did he say?

It's not and call it curse or blessing, he can make out Louis’ silhouette even in the steam-filled room the moment he sees him. Louis is standing in front of the mirror, not noticing him yet, seeming deep in thought.  

Harry walks up to him with a happy stride and hugs him from behind before leaning in for the toothpaste. He feels Louis’ body tremble at the contact of his hand on his waist and the rugged exhale Louis lets out calls all the blood to his dick. No time for that, Harry reminds himself and nuzzles against that invitingly warm and soft neck.

“We’re gonna be late.” Louis squirms away and goes to rummage in the bathroom cabinet.

“Lou…” Harry frowns and watches him.

Louis gulps thickly and his hand finally stops grabbing the handle. “Yeah,” he mumbles but it comes out shaky.

Harry frowns and steps closer, hands on Louis’ shoulder. “Is everything okay?”        

Louis waits for a beat before getting back to rummaging into the cabinet.

“Lou?”

“Yes Harry. Just.. I don't want to be late!” Louis snaps the cabinet’s door shut with so much force that the door opens again and keeps hanging.

Harry just looks at him flabbergasted, then at the door, then at him again.

“If you don’t come down in two minutes I’m gonna go there myself and I’m gonna take a picture of you and upload it on the internet!“ There’s laughter coming up after Zayn’s comment.

Harry rolls his eyes and brushes his teeth in silence.

        

*

 

This morning has been so weird. Correction. _Louis_ is being so weird.

Normally they have breakfast in twenty different turns and combinations but of course, Savan chose today to join them, making it a group thing. Nevermind, they’ll soon be out of here, away from everyone and they can enjoy having a fun day together.

Harry walks downstairs reluctantly not because he wants to be featured on the internet while having a moment alone with his boyfriend (everyone can fuck off), but because he would’ve preferred some private time to talk, but as that's not happening he follows Louis downstairs, taking each step behind him in a daze. Maybe he’ll set a new record by taking the longest time walking down a staircase of twelve steps.

The thing is, Harry isn’t ready to face people yet. It doesn't feel right, doesn't feel okay to emerge in front of the others like this. Not while not everything is okay. He needs time to sit down with Lou and discuss what happened, he doesn't want to go public with this mood or whatever that's happening now. If he could he would skip this breakfast happily or take it to a private corner. _Or a date._

It makes him uncomfortable to come out like this, this something -whatever it is- should be reserved to be talked about behind closed doors and not when they're surrounded with bandmates, friends. People. The very people whose gaze shift on him as soon as he reaches the bottom step (a lot sooner than expected). No world record for today, he’s afraid.

He gains his composure quickly and walks to the table all the while his gaze isn't leaving the floor. He sinks on the closest empty chair. He feels movement next to him and catches Louis from his periphery sitting down on the empty chair next to him. The fact that he chose to sit next to him eases his nerves, even if only slightly.

He can feel the stare of the others, and hasn't been on a timer per se, he still feels bad for making them wait. "Sorry for being late,” he mumbles pouring cereal in his bowl. When finished, he passes it to Louis automatically who does the same.     

“You haven't missed anything, Harry. We were just talking about yesterday. And you young man, you really delivered,” Savan says softly with an honest smile. He walks up to Harry and gives him a one armed hug.           

“Thank you,” Harry replies, flustered at the attention and hugs Savan back.

“Sorry for pushing you.” Savan whispers in his ear, not wanting to embarrass Harry more. Good call.

“It worked didn't it?”      

“It did. I’m proud of you.” He continues patting Harry's back.

“Well I...” Harry gets out of the embrace and rubs the back of his neck. “I couldn’t have done it without your support... so... thank you... All of you.” He sinks back in his chair and looks around, his gaze is met with proud, appreciative eyes, it makes his cheeks burn.

Then his blush doubles when he feels Louis’ hand land on his thigh. Louis squeezes it lightly, as if reassuring him _I'm proud of you too._

When Harry moves his hand to link their fingers together, he realises Louis’ hand is already gone. He looks up at him still in time to see him pull his chair out so quickly it almost falls.

Louis then walks up to Liam and stands behind him with arms crossed.

Liam turns around with a raised eyebrow. “Can I help you?” he asks, tone indicating that he hasn’t forgotten the argument from yesterday.

Louis hasn’t either, if his eyeroll is anything to go by. “Can you just put the cereal in the middle of the table so everyone can reach it?”

“You could’ve just asked for it you know.”

“And you could’ve just _not_ taken it far from reach.” With that Louis snatches the box of Coco Pops from him and struts back to his seat.

“Or you could’ve just asked your boyfriend to get it for you since he’s literally sitting between us. I'm sure he would've passed it to you happily.”

Louis lets it go without a single comment and starts pouring milk over his cereal for so long that the cereal is practically drowning in it.

Harry's just watching him with a frown. Because. What the fuck, really? He'd be damned if he hasn't passed Louis the very cereal only minutes before. What's with him? He seems to be in such a weird mood, so unusual of him, which... is kind of a pity since they’re supposed to leave for their date any minute now, or so Harry guesses.

“Hey, Lou,” he whispers.

Louis darts his eyes towards him slowly, with one raised eyebrow.

Harry swallows at that. “When are we leaving?”

Louis turns back to his food and crunches on it before mumbling “Leaving where?”

“Our date?” Harry asks slowly, leaning forward to catch Louis’ eyes.

Louis dives in and fills his mouth with more cereal, choosing to reply a lot later than Harry's anxiety level would've preferred it. “I don't think we can,” he mumbles, mouth full.

“But we---”

“--- I think Savan has plans with us.”

 _That never stopped you before._ “I’m pretty sure he’ll let us leave like..” _any other day,_  he wants to say but decides it’s better to leave it like this. “Are you alright Lou?”

“Jesus, Harry, stop asking if I’m okay. Can’t I have a bad day?”

From the periphery Harry can see the others fidgeting in their seats. “Excuse me for caring,” he grunts louder than intended.

In the next moment Louis drops his little spoon and it lands on the floor with a loud bang.

Harry would bend down and pick it up like any human being but he’s too busy replaying Louis’ words in his head. The way he practically _spat_ them out... they hurt, his words hurt. Every single one of them.

Harry has to lift his gaze to the ceiling and starts counting to ten to avoid making a scene in front of Savan of all people. He’s not gonna cry.

He's.not.gonna.cry. _Stop asking if I’m okay._

He's two seconds from breaking down. Fuck he's going to cry.

He bolts up so fast he almost knocks his chair over. It takes him three quick steps to reach the kitchen counter. He pulls the fridge door open and closes it. He can feel the attention on him and it drives him crazy that he can't have a fucking moment to himself.

He needs something to do, something to get his mind off this shit, his eyes are practically twitching, he’s looking for something to do so desperately. He needs something _fast_ and _now._

He lets out a relieved sigh when he spots the dirty plates piling in the sink.

Stress cleaning it is then.

Perfect. Splendid even. Cleaning is good. It's useful for everyone. Washing the dishes is like actual therapy, it's really.fucking.good for the mind and if he puts the plates on the dryer with a little bit more force than necessary, no one has the guts to call him out on it.

A few beats later the conversation seems to be back on track thanks to Niall. Harry’s eternally grateful for having him.

Even with the water running and the occasional noise of the utensils he’s still able to catch a few words. The usual cheerful mood is not there, everyone’s treading their words carefully.

Fresh waves of regret start hitting his ribs, maybe he was too hard on Louis, maybe he could’ve been more understanding. He should've known better, him of all people that everyone has those days when no one should so much as look at them.

But him and Louis were each other's exceptions, they could _always_ go to each other. Louis could always calm him down and he likes to believe he could do the same to him. They didn't always feel the _need_ to talk, it was enough to just be there for the other, share the air of silence and all worries were be gone in an hour or so.

Keeping all that in mind and getting a _Can’t I have a bad day_ feels just plain wrong.

Maybe that's why it's harder for Harry to just accept it as it is.

He’s ready with the dishes and starts cleaning the sink itself when he feels someone’s presence behind him.

He tenses when the familiar smell of aftershave reaches his senses and lets out a heavy breath, waiting with wildly beating heart.for what’s coming.

“I’m sorry. I’m just having a really bad day,” Louis whispers, resting his head against his back and wrapping his arms loosely around his waist.

Harry closes his eyes and drops his head forward. “You didn’t have to snap at me,” he mumbles, but it comes out soft, frustration already evaporating. He takes a deep breath before he turns around slowly to face Louis. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Louis gulps. “I c-can’t.” Harry can't help but frown at that. “I mean, it’s nothing. I’m sure it’ll pass, don't worry your pretty little head about it.” he mumbles burying his head into Harry’s t-shirt.

Harry wants to say it's his job as a caring and loving boyfriend to do just that, care, love and worry but he stays silent. At least he received an explanation. A bad day. It’s not what he wanted to hear, but at least Louis gave him something.

Bad day.

Harry has millions of questions at the tip of his tongue but he swallows them down and bites his tongue instead of letting a stream of why’s out. Who's he to talk? Everyone has bad days, he has had quite a few lately himself, so he can't call him out for this behavior, to be honest. They've all been there before, every new elimination gets harder and the fear that it's going to be over, that this is it grows even more. If not now, then next week. It's only natural that it has reached  Louis.

They've always managed to get through it by someone or something.

Louis will too. Besides, he's a big boy. He'll share it when it's time, or he'll work it out himself. Harry can only hope he'll let him in sooner than later, instead of bearing the burden on his own shoulder.    

_Things I can’t: force my boyfriend to open up._

_Things I can: be there for him._

That's it.

Harry will just have to deal with that. And the day is young, or whatever that saying is.

It'll get better.

 

*

 

It doesn’t get better. Not even close.

Even though their date is cancelled, the day had every potential to go there, to turn a good one. But that's not happening.

It's not Savan’s fault. Noticing the weird tension in the  kitchen he's made an exciting program driving them in the middle of nowhere, and they're finally allowed to leave the confines of the contestants house, which is something they always loved doing, but it feels plain wrong being outside and moping around watching Louis not doing... well… anything.

“Sing! Whatever that comes into your mind! I want you to put it into music,” Savan tells them when they reach the entrance.           

“We’re in a landfill,” Zayn comments, eyebrows raised as if asking Savan if he’s lost some wheels.

Niall bends his knees and barks out a laugh. “You want. Fuck.” He stops, unable to get any word out. “You want us to write lyrics on the top of a pile of tras--”

“You can laugh all you want. Writing music is not about sitting comfortably in a room. Inspiration can hit you anywhere.”           

“That’s rubbish!’ Harry yells laughing, proud of his pun. He sneaks a glance at Louis expecting the upcoming smirk of his lips or an eyeroll with a smile. A teasing poke in the ribs. Another pun. Something.

Anything.           

Louis remains quiet.

Harry drops his head and tries to hide a shaky sigh. It isn’t shaky because of Louis. It’s because of the wind moving the air, affecting his voice.

_Yeah._

“Make music!” Savan yells to the scattered band members.

“You want music?” Niall replies from the top of a pile further away, voice loud enough to make sure Savan hears him through the wind.

“I do!”

Niall jumps down and walks closer ending up on the rooftop of a rusty car holding some junk in his hands. He starts hitting them together and the whole thing should be a mess, total chaos, but somehow, it actually gives an interesting sound. Harry walks close and starts tapping his empty bottle to the hood of the car. Liam and Zayn join as well, all amazed how much music garbage can make.        

It’s a fun day. They're rapping in the middle of basically... nowhere… then Niall starts singing opera about a cactus and they all lose it. They manage to do a (failed) musical about two dogs who somehow ended up in Rome and when Niall starts belting the second opera, Harry finally allows himself to laugh once or twice. When sudden waves of sadness don’t wash over him that is.

He tries to make Louis laugh by making a fool of himself when he's dressed up in junk and by adding the silliest lyrics he could ever think of when it comes to songwriting.

But after a few similarly unsuccessful attempts he stops trying altogether.

_I'm not his guardian, I'm not his mum, I shouldn’t be overbearing. I offered my help, he refused._

As the day passes things do get personal for him, and any chance at a laugh missed by Louis feels like personal offense. He's tired of feeling rejected. He doesn’t want to question things, he really doesn’t, but can’t help but think that if things were reversed, he wouldn’t leave Louis hanging like that and he'd share anything with him without a second thought. He would've gone on that date, away from the others and would've spilled his guts out in Louis’ lap in no time.

No filter.

No boundaries.

A cruel voice which started out as a whisper since breakfast now keeps getting louder in his head and it's practically _screaming_ that _two can play the game_ but he isn’t like that, he’s not the kind of person who plays games. He isn't one to fuck with people's head, so he ignores it.

He’s just coasting along, not knowing what to think of the situation, not knowing if it even makes sense questioning it, asking why Louis isn’t telling him, isn’t trusting him. It can’t be about lack of trust, it really can't, he refuses to believe that.

Every time he sneaks a glance in Louis’ direction he catches him brooding, completely lost in thought. Sometimes Louis looks up at him and their eyes lock, but only for a few seconds because Louis turns his head away. It's like he's physically there, but his mind somewhere far away.

Harry can't help but feel rejected and a little piece breaks from his heart every time Louis turns away.

Within an hour he's not sure there's enough pieces remaining to keep it together.

 

_*_

          

That evening finds them in the common room playing cards and some video games Harry hasn't heard of. He’s only watching them from the corner because Aiden wanted to play canasta and he thought that's a good distraction.

Hours passed since the grumpy morning and Louis finally seems to be having fun. He's in a good mood, laughing, at least that's what people would think.

Except, Harry knows a Louis Tomlinson laugh from the first crinkle of the eye to the last dying chuckle and he's fully capable of spotting a fake one from a mile, and this Louis? This Louis falls a little short: the crinkles disappear too fast, his voice doesn't go high-pitched enough, his body isn't laughing with him and when he does laugh, it stops as abruptly as if he was just counting the seconds to make it authentic.

No one seems to notice. _Nice acting skills, Lou._

“An autobiography!” Liam shouts and it would be funny any other time, Harry would be the first to laugh out loud and would tip his head back but he can’t find it in himself to appreciate a good joke now.

Niall seems to have the patience of a lamb though and takes Liam’s questions like a champ, bless him. “I’m seventeen,” he looks at Liam pointedly.

“And?”

Niall keeps his gaze on him, giving him some time to catch up. When that doesn’t matter he adds with a sigh. “People write autobiographies when they have something to say, and have like... thirty more years behind them.”

“You never know.”

“Right.”

“So not an autobiography. What about codes?”

Niall shakes his head, bemused. “You do realise you’re not getting anything out of me, don’t you?”

Liam growls. “Why can Louis read them and I can’t?”

“He didn’t read them,” Niall replies.

Silence follows.

Liam whips his head in their direction. “What do you mean?”

“He only saw the titles. But he didn’t read them.”

“Oh, but I thought he--” Liam interjects.

“--No, I would know about it. It’s password protected.”

Liam cackles. “He can break any code in two minutes. Didn’t you know?”

“He still didn’t break them. I would know.”

“But why didn’t he? He had it all for him.”

“Maybe he found it invasive. Ever thought of that?” Louis joins the conversation and Harry whips his head in his direction, dropping a Jumbo in the process, obviously not expecting him to speak.

It takes fifteen minutes more for the game to end and for Aiden to win. Harry couldn't have been arsed to play attention at the end.

They all sit there watching as Louis beats Zayn at Sonic. Another ten minutes pass.

It's probably the longest ten minutes of history.

He lingers around, waiting for Louis to go up to him.

“Okay, who's hungry because I'm dying,” Niall starts and suddenly everyone stands up at the same time, obscuring Harry's view.

When Harry stands up and approaches them Louis is nowhere to be seen. Harry flicks his gaze towards the door and catches the back of Louis as he leaves the room with Niall.

Fuck.

He goes outside and sits on the swing bed, lays his little notebook in his lap and jots down random words that come to his mind. He welcomes the wind, it's refreshing.

He's surrounded by people every day, there’s madness, luxury any teenager would die for and a great chance at a national competition. He has so many things at his feet.

Still, the wind blowing in his face is the first thing that makes him feel alive.

He can't be arsed to stand up and go back to life but he has to when the sun sets and the weather turns chilly.

He goes back to their room with slow steps, thinking about how to handle seeing Louis and how their evening would go. Will they sleep in the same bed? Will Louis’ funk last longer? He enters their room and by reflex turns towards Louis’ bed. It's empty. And from the looks of it he was nowhere close to it.

“Hey, you want to join us?” Zayn asks. “Monopoly.” He adds with a raised brow.

Harry shakes his head. “Maybe next time.”

Niall, Zayn and Liam move their Monopoly in the common room.

Harry goes to bed soon after they close the door.

He normally leaves his bedside light on so the others don’t stumble through the pile of clothes on the floor but he turns the lights off this time, afraid they would give his tears away. He tucks the duvet to his chin and turns towards the wall, willing sleep to come.

It doesn’t.

 

*

 

The next day is one of those days when everything goes to shit. Well, _shit_ is quite an understatement considering how _shitty_ things have been already.

It starts with a headache, the kind which amplifies a whisper to shouting in a megaphone, the one that cannot be eased by massaging the temple, the one which feels to root from his brain.

Niall says something obnoxiously loud about rhinos and it's getting too _much._

 _“Shut it,”_ Harry mumbles and only realises he said it out loud when he’s met with Niall’s hurt expression.

_Fuck._

He apologises right away, of course he does, and Niall reacts with a smile, even though it's thin, but the bad feeling still stays in the pit of Harry's stomach.

He puts his socks on and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he steps in front of the basin his socks get as soaked as if he was standing in a puddle big enough for a large dog.

He takes his socks off and tiptoes back to his bed to toss them away. He heads back to brush his teeth, for real this time only to find Liam occupying his space.

Liam looks at him apologetically.

 _Great_. “No problem,” he mumbles.

He leans against the door deciding to wait for his turn there because if there's one thing he learned is that bathroom time is limited and the one closest is the one calling the dibs.

Liam takes his sweet time cleaning his teeth, even uses floss. When he starts brushing and styling his hair while Harry's still in briefs and socks, Harry's patience starts wearing thin. He goes back to sit on his bed, waiting for the bathroom to be free.

He risks a glance at Louis’ bed, breathing hitching when his gaze locks with Louis’. The moment doesn't last long because as expected, Louis turns away and busies himself with his phone.

Harry sighs.

And it's only morning.

They’re scheduled to go out and meet fans despite the weather being cold and rainy. It’s the least their fans deserve who wait for them for an hour outside.

An hour _at least_ , because the band has to wait in the stopped car for that long. For what, no one knows.

"Talk to me," Niall mumbles about fifteen minutes into waiting in the car, forehead resting on his knees.

"What's the matter?" Liam asks, voice laced with worry.  

"Enclosed spaces."

"Oh." Liam panics wide-eyed.

"My sisters are gonna be visiting next week," Zayn says.

Niall whips his head up. "Really? That's cool. I know you've been wanting to see them for weeks."

“Yeah, they're all finally able to make it,” Zayn replies with a smile.

"Harry, you?" Liam asks and Harry closes his eyes for a brief second. Right. The other reason this day is worse than yesterday is his mum’s text message he received about an hour ago. He hasn't even shared it with the lads, already feeling like a failure for so much shit happening to him.

He swallows thickly. "Mum and Gems planned to uhm... visit, you know,” Liam nods at that. “But something came up and Robin-- he got stuck on a huge project 'cause his colleague got sick and... er they're on a deadline so um.. they can’t drive down," he mumbles and squirms in his seat.

Liam pouts with sad eyes and turns to Louis.  

"Mum arrives on Wednesday," Louis mumbles.

 _The day after tomorrow_??? That’s news to him. "Really?" He can’t help but shriek staring at Louis with wide eyes.

"Yeah," Louis replies with an expression Harry can’t decipher.

That must be what got his knickers in a twist then, missing his family and knowing they’ll visit but it can’t come soon enough. Harry knows the feeling all too well. He feels relief wash through him all of a sudden. Louis will be okay after Jay visits. He will be okay. Thank god!

Just when Niall starts sharing his family's visiting schedule someone knocks against the window and they can finally get in the venue.

Harry catches up to Louis. "Bet you missed them."

"Yeah, loads," Louis mumbles and ventures forward, following the bodyguards closely.

“Are all of your sisters coming as well?” he asks, quickening his step to make sure he catches up to Louis.

“No, it’s only mum.”

“But they--”

\--I invited mum only.” Louis says with so much finality that Harry snaps his mouth shut.

 

The fan event lasts a couple of hours and when they get home they almost fall face down into the bed they're _that_ tired.

“Bet you’re excited,” Zayn says turning towards Louis.

“I am! And Gran stays with the twins so Lotts and Fiz can have a sleepover at their friends.”

Well that's significantly more information Zayn's getting than what he shared with him. It feels like he kept all this info for himself and couldn't wait to share it with someone. Someone who isn't _him_.

“Harry?”

He turns on his side and sees Niall sitting on the side of his bed. “Hey. I’m sure they'll see you on TV.”

It takes him a few seconds to get who Niall is talking about. Right. His parents. Everyone thinks he's sad because of them while he's not. He wants to fucking cry.

“Hey, someone up for a walk downtown?” Aiden barges in before he has a chance to reply to Niall.

He ponders about it for a moment. Going downtown versus staying here with the lads with the possibility of Louis being more Louis with the others.

“Me. Yes. Let's go,” he practically pushes Aiden outside.

 

*

 

On the third day of no-talking-with-Louis Harry’s absolutely confident the universe hates him because he wakes up with a sore throat.

The thing is, Slurpees sounded like a really good idea when Aiden offered yesterday. Looking back now, he knows it was his dumbest decision. Probably. Most definitely.

Savan agrees. “You're gonna have to sit this out Harry, I’m afraid. Full vocal rest. No talking today,” he orders. “I mean it,” he adds narrowing his eyes at him before turning towards Louis with one raised eyebrow. “I _mean_ it.”

Harry wants to laugh at that because the most he talked with Louis was some impersonal meaningless sentences that don't count as conversations, so he’s pretty sure he isn't in danger of damaging his vocal chords. Not if it depended on Louis.

He finds he's secretly happy he doesn’t have to talk. It's like he's given an excuse he didn't know he needed. Maybe the universe actually likes him. No talking means no more letdowns. And it's not like he’s in the mood to chitchat when a cactus is stuck halfway his throat.

The Louis situation is most definitely not Savan’s business so he nods like the good pupil he is and looks around.

They're all sitting in a circle because ' _this way the chi flows better and reaches all of us_.’

Louis is completely surrounded, sitting between Zayn and Liam.

Harry will never know if he would’ve sat next to him because he arrived a bit late as he was chasing some meds for his throat and by the time he entered there was only one free seat next to Niall. Or the windowsill. No offense to Niall he went for brooding on the windowsill.

On any other day Louis would’ve saved him a seat or would be offering his lap, the legs of their chairs would be pushed together. They’d be whispering some random stories to each other and Harry would bury his silly giggling face in Louis’ collarbones, regardless of Savan’s order.

“I have a surprise for you,” Savan’s eyes twinkle in excitement. “Ready?”

Everyone nods.

“The musical guests for the finale have been confirmed.”

“Did you invite the Queen?” Louis asks and it earns a laugh from almost everyone.

Almost. Harry tries to keep a straight face, emphasis on _tries_ , it's not as easy as it sounds because Savan is really teasing as if he invited the Queen herself, so Louis’ sense of humour is spot on, as always. Harry bites his tongue and tries to sit still, willing the muscles on his face to stay put.

“Not quite. But almost as famous,” Savan replies and they all straighten up a bit.

“Who is it?” Niall inquires.

“You'll know in due time.”

“Wait, you're not telling us?” Zayn asks with a frown.

Louis scoffs. “A real tease, you are.”

“Get through the top three and I'll tell you.”

“What are we gonna sing this week?” Liam talks for the first time.

“It’s an artist from Barbados.”

“Sean Paul?” Niall asks.

“Isn’t he from Jamaica? Rihanna,” Zayn adds in a bored voice.

“But she's female,” Liam comments.

“And?” Savan looks at him confusedly.

“Yesss! Yes! Riri is the queen!” Niall jolts up and hugs Savan.

Harry listens to them practice _Only girl in the world_ for the first few minutes only and then checks out. He clutches the lyric paper and tries to concentrate on the part his name is put next to. Emphasis on _trying_ because his gaze keeps landing on Louis.

He swallows thickly, unable to get rid of the memories of Louis’ face when he tried to talk to him. He was avoiding eye contact, fidgety, snappy, impatient. He didn't smile. He didn't look as relaxed as he does now. Harry's heart is breaking at the mere thought that he can't seem to get that smile on him.

It was the song.

It was the boys.

It was anyone but him.

Maybe it's just a bad phase. Maybe he's just being paranoid. Maybe he's just imagining the whole thing.

But then he remembers that Louis didn't tell him his mum was coming and can't help but bite his bottom lip, swallowing loudly before he turns in the direction of the window, swiping a tear away with his sweater paw.

 

*

 

“You okay, mate?” Niall comes up after the rehearsal.

 _No_. “Yeah. You?” he croaks out. Damn, it does hurt to speak.

“Yeah. Harry I… I--” Niall scratches the back of his neck. “Can I talk to you sometime?”

“Er.. sure. Yeah. Yeah,” Harry whispers, not wanting to fuck with his throat even more.

“Okay.”

“Now?” he mouths, unsure how a conversation would be possible when he's officially banned from talking.

Niall opens his mouth to speak when---

“Nialler, your sheet.”

Niall turns to Louis with a frown. “What? Oh.”

Louis puts the lyric sheet in Niall’s hand. “You left it there, mate.” Harry just looks at him, mouth agape. _You left the room already. When did you even sneak back?_

“Oh, thank you.”

He waits for Louis to say something, he even turns his body fully towards him. _I’m here. Just talk to me._

But Louis isn't talking.

Harry has thousands of thoughts running in his mind, why did he come back, why didn't he let him and Niall talk, and most of all why the fuck he's playing jealous and he can only hope Niall forgives him for turning on his heels when he didn’t look and getting the fuck out of there.

 

*****

 

He starts avoiding Louis and that's all too fair because he's pretty sure Louis has been avoiding him as well, so it's time for him to join.

It turns out, avoiding someone who you're sharing a room with is quite a challenge and Harry catches himself fail more times than not. He already hates this game. He can only hope that Louis knows that one word from him would be enough for Harry to happily drop the charade and hug the living soul out of him.

It’s a real shame that such fact seems to be completely forgotten by Louis.

 

*

 

His _old_ instinct kicks in when it’s evening the next day and he still hasn’t seen Louis. He looked for him everywhere but decides to get back to their room and call it a day. When he enters their room he can't help it and chances a peek at Louis’ bed. He finds it empty. It feels like he’s being pushed in the chest by a racing car.

“Lou?” A just entering Niall asks.

Harry twirls his neck not wanting to miss the answer.

“He's with his mum,” Zayn answers.

Harry releases a deep breath in relief. How could he forget. Jeez, where is he keeping his head these days?

He only then sees the clean ironed clothes and a pink purse at the end of Louis’ bed.

Stop. Rewind. Play. A woman’s purse. That means they’ll come back here. He can’t be here for that. He _needs_ a safe place and this room just lost that title. He has to leave it right fucking now.

He barrels out like a madman, and maybe he's being a coward for avoiding rooms where he can meet Jay, but frankly, he can't guarantee he won't break down in front of her.

It's one thing to act like he's okay in front of the boys, but Jay… sweet Jay who batted his hand away and hugged him when they first met, who told him _forget Mrs Tomlinson, call me Jay_. Jay who took him in for that one weekend as if he was her own son dating a boy called Louis. Jay who wanted to make Louis’ favorite and was fumbling for the recipe and when Louis told her Harry didn't like Brussels sprouts she just dropped everything as if that was the most natural thing in the world. Harry doesn’t like Brussels sprouts? The Brussels sprouts won’t stay in the Tomlinson household then.

Sweet Jay who thanked him on the second evening for making her boy happy. Sweet Jay who hugged him so tight in return when Harry started crying.

The very moment she sees him in this state she would know the deal and he can't bear the thought of lying to her so he hangs out in the music room furthest from their room which has been unused since they lost more than half of the contestants. He tries to rehearse Rihanna by messing around with the piano, he’s hitting half the keys right.

An hour passes, maybe more. He reaches a point when if he repeats his two lines one more time he’s gonna get crazy. He checks his phone. 8:10 PM. He deems it safe to approach their room.

Safe, he said?

He’s walking right into the lion’s den.

It's too late to turn back when he spots Jay but he’s not running away, at least not literally, he’s been raised better than just escape with a nod. Maybe he’ll get over this quickly, because Louis hasn't spotted him yet, as he’s leaning against the wall, his back to Harry.   

Harry wants to pass by them, he really does. Every cell in his body screams it because he doesn’t want to intrude their private moment but then Jay nods towards him cutting Harry’s plans through.

Louis turns around at that, noticing his presence.

Harry gulps when he’s met with the expression on Louis’ face. It makes him regret his decision of taking the longer way to the sleeping quarters. Because this Louis in front of him--- this -- Louis looks doesn’t have that cocky or snappy attitude anymore. The best word to describe him is terrified.

Harry had a fair share of Louis’ moods but he’s never seen him like this. This isn’t just exhaustion, isn’t just bad mood, or a bad day. This is pure fear on his face.

Harry just stands there, dumbstruck, dying to reach out and console him.

Louis casts his head to the floor.           

And. Okay. That’s enough of a sign for Harry to understand he isn’t needed. No problem, he’s sort of getting used to it and if he wasn’t a sarcastic bastard he would admit it hurts like hell. He bites the inside of his lip, praying all the gods he won't cry now, not in front of them. Which is likely happening in exactly three seconds. He needs to escape stat!

But Jay seems to think differently as she waits for Harry with arms spread wide. Harry crashes into her without missing a beat. “I missed you,” she whispers.

He never missed his own mum more than now and buries his face in Jay’s blouse while she hugs him tighter.

After a minute she pulls away, caressing Harry's cheek, her blue loving eyes piercing through the deepest of Harry’s soul. "How have you been darling?"           

Harry swallows down the lump in his throat. _I’ve no fucking clue what to do and I’ve never been as lost as now. Everything went to shit, Jay. It’s like one moment I was hugging your son and in the next he turned into sand._ “Erm.. good? Busy rehearsing and all that," he lies hoping Jay won’t catch on the obvious deflection.

Something flickers in Jay's eyes - _fuck she knows_ \- and Harry drops his head, preferring to inspect the floor. Then he thinks better and lifts his head, begging her with a silent look not to call him out on the lie.

She doesn’t. She looks at him with a look laced with so much worry and love at the same time, it looks like she wants to say something and bites the inside of her lips, seemingly having an internal battle but in the end she leaves it uncommented, letting Harry off the hook.

Harry isn’t one to miss his chances. "It was nice er… seeing you." he stumbles through his words.

"You too, sweetie. Come visit, okay? The girls miss you."           

And if that isn't salt in the open wound then nothing is. Maybe if he presses his lips together no one will notice his chin trembling.

He turns his attention to Louis, involuntarily as if asking for permission, if it’s okay to accept Jay's invitation when Louis himself barely talks to him. Louis gives him a slow nod that can very well be read as ‘well, me mum was there and I couldn’t actually say no.’        

Harry lifts his gaze back to Jay. "Yeah." He clears his throat, turns on his heels and gets the fuck out of there as quickly as he can manage. The more he thinks about it and recalls Louis’ face the more erratic his breathing becomes. His vision blurs for a moment, cheeks going red so much he has to stop at the first doorway to lean his head at the wall, panting, willing his breathing to return to normal.

What happens next is something he never expected to hear and frankly, he couldn’t have missed the sobbing noises even if he wanted to.

"It's so hard." It’s Louis’ voice and the sadness in it breaks Harry’s heart.

"I know," Jay whispers. "Are you sure.. You..?" She adds waiting a beat sounding hesitant. And tired. As if she’s talked to him about _it_ several times.

Harry has a feeling this is all about _him_ , that Louis is sad because of him. Because if he’s being logical, the only thing that changed in Louis is how he treated Harry himself. He didn’t cut off the others. Only Harry.

"I don’t have a choice."

"He loves you, you know."

Harry squeezes his eyes closed. Technically the _he_ could be anyone but Harry doesn’t have to be a mind reader to know they’re talking about him.   

He goes to bed, knowing Louis’ side would remain cold. Another day of weirdness. When he closes his eyes he realises four days passed and in the last two all they exchanged was a Yeah and a nod. Wow. Progress.

He puts the earphones in and starts listening to his playlist. When the first love song starts, he doesn’t have the strength to switch it to something less painful and when the sniffling noises become too loud to go unnoticed he stops the music and tries to dream about better days.

If only sleep would come.

 

*

   

The next days pass with little to no interaction with Louis which is unacceptable of course and needs immediate intervention, so he decides on executing _PLAN A_ which is talking to him. But getting someone talk who doesn’t want to talk to you is harder than it sounds. Especially if that someone surrounds himself with all kinds of people as a defence mechanism.

Whether Harry likes it or not, he’s stuck in this nightmare. That he already knows. He just has to somehow get out of it.

He finds solace in writing in his little black spiral book, courtesy of his mum. Soon, it’s filled with the thoughts that are spiralling in his head. It becomes a permanent possession in the pocket of his jeans.

The _morning incident_ is his newest entry.

These last few days he learned that the first five minutes of a day are a good indicator of Louis’ mood, so he gets up earlier than usual in the hopes of catching a lovely breakfast with Louis and provoke the _Talk._

Said talk will lead Louis to want to spend the whole day with him because he would realise he’s been missing Harry very much a lot and they would be better by the end of the day.

That's the plan, at least.

Remember those first five minutes defining how the day goes?

And remember Harry's love-hate relationship with the universe?

He should've known, really.

He built his plan _A_ on a cheerful Louis, which seems to be quite a bad start because this Louis, well, is definitely in a bad mood.           

“Change that fucking ringtone, Lima. I feel like I’m in a rainforest.”           

“What’s the problem with rainforests?” Niall asks rubbing his eyes.           

“It’s just birds, Louis,” Liam adds with a condescending tone.           

“Not just any bird. They’re birds living in the rainforest.”           

“How do you know?”           

“By watching the Lion King more than two million times.”           

“Wait, aren’t those in the savannah?” Niall asks hopping off the bed and making a beeline to the toilet.           

“That’s a discussion you’re not ready for Nialler, believe me. It’s Disney. They put lions in rainforests and tigers in savannahs all the time.” Louis yells after him.           

“But the point is that Simba is in the savannah. I remember zebras,” Zayn joins in on the conversation.           

Liam raises one eyebrow.           

“What? Louis’ not the only one with younger sisters,” Zayn replies defensively. “Besides, zebras are cool.”           

“But,” Louis raises his voice slightly to get their attention, “the story says he’s sent into exile by Scar and he walks straight into a rain forest. Can you imagine? A bloody rainforest! From Africa!”           

“Okay that’s weird,” Liam muses.           

“It’s more than weird. Show me one place in Africa where they have rainforests. I hardly passed geography but even I know that you’d have to teleport to another continent to make that happen. Kids are misled at young age just because Disney takes a liking to include a warthog and a meerkat living in the jungle!”

“I liked the warthog and the meerkat. They were fun,” Niall adds dreamily.

“The problem isn’t with the characters, Niall.”

Even though no one banned Harry from joining the discussion, he follows their chat in silence.

Soon enough, the topic is dropped and the room becomes a busy beehive. Everyone is running around looking for clothing items they can deem clean among the scattered boxers, jeans, shirts and socks.

 _Everyone is busy and Louis is alone_. It's such a rare happenstance, that the next thing Harry knows, he’s heading towards the bathroom to put an end to the madness.        

Louis is standing in front of the mirror of the bathroom cabinet, he’s brushing his teeth while occasionally fixing his fringe with his other hand.

Harry goes to stand next to him to check the mess sitting on the top of his head, and of course to ogle Louis’ half naked body from the corner of his eye. He wants to put his mouth on those collarbones so badly that he has to bite his lip to stop himself.

Louis turns his neck in his direction after a few heartbeats, with one raised eyebrow which feels very much like a silent _Can I help you?_

_Why are you like this?_

Harry’s mood deflates faster than a balloon that's surrounded by ten needle-armed kindergartners.

_We were never like this._

Now here they are in the same bathroom acting like strangers and Harry has to shake it all off because he's on a mission, he has no time to wallow.            

“Just wondered if you wanna grab... erm brekkie with me,” he asks looking down, carefully treading through his words, finding the cap of the toothpaste a good way to keep himself occupied. He only risks a glance at Louis after the invitation is out in the open.

Louis’ hand stops midway on his forehead. In fact he’s the portrait of a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide in panic.

Harry’s eyes follow the movement of Louis’ hand as it ends up scratching the back of his neck.

Harry sighs inwardly. The last shreds of hope are gone and his mood changes from hopeful to crestfallen with just one look from Louis _._

“Sorry, I’m going on a run,” Louis replies with flushed cheeks, evidently not inviting Harry to tag along.           

Harry presses his lips together. “Oh.”   

“With Liam,” Louis clarifies.           

 _And fuck if that doesn’t hurt._           

“Okay. That’s... that’s good. W-working out is healthy...” Harry stammers and stumbles out of the room where he bumps into Niall.           

“Hey Haz, you up for brekkie? We need to leave right now because I don’t want to miss those cherry filled croissants again.”

“Sod off, we were only five minutes late and there was still choco flavoured left!” Louis protests as he walks out of the bathroom toweling his face.           

“That is not real chocolate,” Niall answers then turns to Harry again. “You coming?”        

Harry catches Louis getting an eyeful of him but as soon as Niall directs the attention back to Harry, Louis seems to be extremely busy with his hair.

Harry stands there feeling like a fool, he rests his hands on his hips, crossing and uncrossing his legs awkwardly.

He’s ready to punch something or get Louis up against the freaking wall, pin him by his arms and see how he would fix his hair then.

He keeps his gaze on Louis, burning a hole in the back of his head, challenging him for long seconds.

But those seconds tick by without eye contact from him.

Warmth spreads over Harry’s face and his cheeks flush from anger.

He can’t believe this is happening. He shakes his head and blows out air through his nose, pressing his lips tight. He manages to catch the surprised _oh_ escape from Louis’ slightly open mouth but he doesn’t have a single bone in his body to care.           

He turns away and storms off to his bed.        

He pulls out his drawer with a bit more force than necessary, takes his phone, earphones and the book out, then kicks the door shut with his feet. He flops down on the bed, hits play on the first song he can find, turns the volume up and starts scribbling, scratching the paper with such force that it tears.

In the next fifteen minutes he watches with flushed cheeks and balled up fists as Liam and Louis get ready for their run.

Harry never had issues with Liam, really, he never did. He considers him a good lad with an amazing voice and although he thinks at times Liam needs to get a bit more loose, his heart is in the right place.           

But Harry doesn’t care about right places in that moment.

_It should be me._

It should be him accompanying Louis and not the band mate he’s talking to the least. And since when did Louis and Liam become running mates? They don’t… even get along for crying out loud! It.should.be.him.           

He needs air.

 _Now_.           

He tosses the notebook on the mattress uncaring where it fell, bounces off the bed, forces his shoes on and struts out of the room.           

He leaves because he doesn’t want to seem clingy. He leaves because he knows _me-times_ are necessary, and that personal space is a thing. He leaves because he’s an individual who doesn’t need Louis to breathe properly.

He has a lot of trouble convincing himself of that.

 

*

 

The _lies_ become more and more frequent.

It's been _days_ of Louis drifting away, the last few Louis didn't say shit to him.

If only it had started with a spat, at least he’d know why, but as a matter of fact, he has no idea what triggered it. And after it started he honestly believed it would all pass and created this faked calm that it was just a phase (which is one of the stupidest thing that can be done by mankind) and thought the situation would resolve itself.   

It doesn’t. Resolve itself that is.

If Harry had it in him he would chuckle at how his life turned into the worst Hollywood rom-com. A Yeah and a nod and a Hi. That's his repertoire when Louis actually _acknowledged_ him. It’s not like Louis is rude to him or anything.

It’s like he let Harry off the hook slowly.

The kisses with tongues turn into pecks, the pecks on the mouth become kisses on the forehead until they completely disappear.

Silly things that were all for Harry are now whispered in Zayn’s ear. Runs are ran with Liam Pain (pun intended). Louis is surrounded by a million people every minute of the day, or so it seems. Harry doesn’t know where Louis is half the time.       

There's no longer being woken up at random hours in the night to have Louis plaster him against the wall just to flop down next to him, occupying a space as big as elephants need and bicker about not having a blanket thick enough.

Not everything changes though.   

He’s caught Louis staring a few times, but as soon as he’s caught Louis steers his gaze away, making Harry question himself if it even happened. They both become big phonies, what with Louis pretending he didn't just look at him and Harry pretending he didn’t notice it.    

That’s the point where Harry admits that he’s just as much to blame, because he didn’t call Louis out on his bullshit, and he just let it all happen.           

But Harry's here with his favourite black book, ready to make it unhappen. Although _PLAN A_ is clearly a failure, _PLAN B_ can still be launched.

 

*

 

Jay leaves a few days later and Louis’ mood doesn't change at all.

Earlier in the day Harry plans to sit next to him in the common room and initiate some conversation but Liam takes the seat as soon as Harry enters the room.

He wanders around and agrees to play cards with Aiden.   

“Is everything okay?”

“Does it look like it?”

“Just trying to be polite. You look like shit.”

“Well thank you.”

“What's going on?”

“Honestly? No fucking idea. I don't even know anything anymore.”   

Aiden hums in response.   

“Do you have a fag?”   

“Wha-- Harry you don't need that!”

Harry looks at him pointedly.

Aiden fumbles in his pocket and when he finds a cig he passes it to him.

They walk to the windowsill and put the ashtray between them.   

“So?”   

Harry waits for a beat before he replies, “He's not talking to me.” He blows out the smoke and his throat feels scratchy after, just like it always does for casual smokers. Isn't smoking supposed to calm your nerves? Harry is sure he heard someone say that somewhere. He wants a refund. They lied. Aiden doesn't look surprised, Harry almost expected him to ask _‘Who isn't?’_

“Is that even possible? I mean you're in the same band.” Okay. So even he noticed.

Wow.

Harry laughs at that, slightly hysterical. “You would think so. But it's bloody possible.”   

Aiden sits up straighter with a sigh.   

“Has he told you--” Harry starts.   

“No. He's sorta avoiding me as well.”   

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Sucks.”   

“Yeah. You tell me.” Harry sighs.

“Maybe it's his family. It can still pass, you know?”

Harry bites his lip, not answering.

Aiden frowns. “What?”

“I don't think it's about his family, Aid. Just think about it… did he change his behavior towards the boys? Towards anyone else?”   

“He treats everyone else the same way. Even Liam _Pain_.” Aiden laughs at that, smoke blurring his face. “I think it's me Aid. It has to be me.”

“Did you ask him?”

“No?” He scoffs. “He fucks off whenever I want to talk.”

“He can't run forever. Besides, you deserve an explanation.”

Harry swallows.

“Are you afraid? Of what he’d say?”

“I’m starting to think there's nothing worse than not knowing. I... I’ve been driving myself mad, looking for reasons why he doesn't even talk to me. It's like he's ignoring me but not really” Harry inhales and keeps the smoke in, before releasing it slowly. “and then I catch him staring but he turns away.”

“That’s shit, mate.” Aiden ponders. “When do you plan to confront him?”

“Now,” Harry says, standing up.

Aiden’s eyes widen. “Now?” He also stands up, placing a stopping hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Are you sure? You look pissed.”

“Good. I need to be.”

“Harry, this---”

“--- _This_ has been going on for long enough.” Harry looks at him pointedly before leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :) See you next Friday!  
> xx  
> Gabi


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Okay before we get into this chapter, I'd like to show you a huge inspiration. Warning: this post is heartbreaking.  
>  [It shows the Lilo dynamics, where Louis is coming from, where Liam is coming from and when I wrote this chapter I remembered this post from ages ago and it helped my head get in the zone. This post will be valid for pretty much everything that's concerned with Louis. ](http://tellmethisisnotlove.tumblr.com/post/115649416094/dude-now-i-definitely-need-to-hear-your-thoughts=)  
> 
> 
> Okay, there're no triggers for this chapter, I'm pretty sure it's a safe one trigger-wise. If you remember where we ended the last chapter you'll be right to expect some drama here, that I'll serve on a silver plate, mate.
> 
> Happy reading! xx
> 
> Peace  
>  G.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a short chapter compared to what you're used to but no worries, the word count is still around 110 K, so you'll get all, not now, but in later chapters :)

Ever walked in on something you shouldn't have? Something so private that’s not intended for a third person to hear? What did you do? Did you leave? Did you stay?

If you left did you feel like maybe you _had_ to hear whatever that was?

But what if you stayed and what you’ve witnessed was really a private moment between two people?

Hasn’t guilt eaten you afterwards?

Do you know what to do when you’re in similar situation? Or do you just stand there transfixed?

Because Liam's undecided. In fact, he's never been in the situation he's in just now. He was just minding his own business, heading back to their room after a long run to shower and change, that was all. But then he spotted Harry and Louis inside. He was just about to turn around and come back later, but on a second glance he felt that something wasn't quite right. He stopped a few steps away from the doorway and has been hiding against the wall of the corridor ever since.

What’s the weirdest, first of all, is that Harry seems to be the only one talking and Louis is just… he’s just hunched into himself, in a posture that never characterised Louis Tomlinson. Not to mention his silence. His silence is the most telling.

That's the only reason why Liam stayed. The only reason why he stands there with flushed cheeks listening to them. He doesn't even need to see them, their voices carry their feelings perfectly enough.

“Why are you shutting me out?” It's Harry, sounding on the edge of breaking something and breaking _down_ in tears all at once. He lets out a deep breath and starts to whisper. “Is it something I did? Am I too much or just-- What happened, Lou? Talk to me, just… just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out okay?”

A long silence is what comes afterwards. The kind of silence that hurts.

Then Harry’s voice cuts through the silence. “I might be sixteen but I’m not a fool, Lou.” He sounds so lost that Liam wants to hug him and hold him tight. “It’s not your family, is it?”

“Wha--?” Louis asks in a high pitched voice. It’s the first time he’s speaking.

“You lied to me. Your family...They aren't the reason why you’ve been ignoring me!”

“Har--” Louis starts then cuts himself off. Where did those usual Tomlinson remarks and comebacks disappear?

Liam swears an entire minute passes in silence and all he can hear is his own thumping heart. And Harry’s labored breathing.

“It’s about me, isn---?” Harry’s voice breaks then. “You haven’t stopped talking to anyone but me. Why? Why are you not talking to me Louis? _I’m supposed_  to be your boyfriend, goddammit. Or did you really think you could get away with looking through me as if I was a ghost?”

No answer comes from Louis, all Liam can hear is sniffling sounds. He isn’t sure who’s crying.

“Am I still?”

“What?” Louis breathes out brokenly, voice barely audible.

“Am I still your _boyfriend_?” Okay, Harry’s definitely crying. “Or am I another Hannah?” Fuck! How can Harry think he’s a Hannah?

Liam squeezes his eyes closed and sneaks closer to the door to have a full vision on them. He pops his head around the door just in time to see Louis’ eyes turn wide and if possible, all the color drain from his face. The cheeky confident lad is gone, and it's replaced by a heartbreakingly sad boy in front of him. He's never seen him like this before.

For a moment it looks like Louis is shaking his head but then composes himself and just stands there, body visibly trembling.

Harry steps into his space, as if daring him. “Why are you looking at me like this? You left her for me. Who’s to say you won’t do the same to me once you get _bored?_ ” God, This is just plain cruel.

Liam turns towards Louis. _Why are you not saying anything? Why are you letting it all happen? Tell him! Tell him you love him._ But Louis still doesn’t do anything.

“Cat got your tongue? Ever gonna answer me?” Harry’s voice carries so much venom that if it could kill Louis would be dead twice.

Liam feels his heart break in two when a single teardrop races down Louis’ cheek. The sight of a sobbing Louis surges something inside him, he realises that every ill fate he’s ever wished upon him, he never really meant. God, this has to be stopped. Right now. “Harry,” he blurts out from behind.

Harry sighs and turns towards him. “What, Liam?”

“That’s enough,” he replies with an authority he didn’t expect from himself.

Harry only rolls his eyes at him then turns back to Louis slowly. “You know what? You’re right,” he talks to Liam but he’s not taking his eyes off of Louis. “It was _enough_ ,” he spits from the doorway and leaves the room.

The air stops flowing. All Liam can hear is his own laboured breathing. What the fuck was this? He doesn’t dare to look at Louis, not after this.

He can’t help it though and sweeps his gaze back to Louis.

He looks smaller than ever as he’s standing there holding a shirt for dear life, his fingers clutch onto it like a lifeline.

Liam drops his head and walks up to his own bed, so shaken by the conversation he overheard that he’s wishing he was running fifteen minutes longer. Even if it’s fucking cold outside. He would prefer anything rather than witnessing what he did.

And now it’s so awkward. He doesn't know if he's allowed to speak, doesn't even know if Louis is aware of his presence or if he knows how much of it Liam has overheard.

“I hope you're not expecting me to bow down to you,” Louis spits out. Well, there’s the answer then. He starts fumbling with the shirt and it’s clear he’s fighting the tears.

For the first time, Liam doesn’t argue back.

The whole thing is heartbreaking and now he’s eaten by guilt and it's the worst feeling in the world. He wants to disappear into the floorboard.

Ever walked in on something you shouldn't have? Something private that’s not intended for a third person to hear?

What do you do?

Do you stay? Do you leave?

The answer is simple: Never stay. Get the fuck out as fast as your legs take you.

 

*

 

Liam feels like he owes them both to make it right. And there’s another thing he feels. Guilt. Guilt for eavesdropping. Guilt for not caring enough to notice.

From then on he feels like the director of a play who’s responsible for two actors. It’s like Harry and Louis’ conversation opened his eyes. Now in the process of making it right he gets distracted and his mind gets so busy that he’s not on top anymore during rehearsals: he starts missing notes and his cue because he's been constantly replaying what he overheard. He can't unsee it, can't unhear it.

Both Harry and Louis try to put on a straight face. There's distance but they still end up next to each other, it's like there’s a magnetic pull, like they _need_ the closeness of each other regardless of the emotional limbo they've been stuck in. They laugh when the jokes require and nod when it's needed but Liam _knows_.

And with time it becomes obvious that something broke, the distance grows, the mask falls off. They stop teasing each other and stop having their bubble which always bothered Liam but he'd do anything to get it back now and see genuine smiles on their faces instead of the strained weak attempts.

It’s weird, feeling like this. His resolve concerning Louis is slowly crumbling as days pass and he still can't shake the memory of a Louis Tomlinson with a trembling chin.

Harry isn't doing better.

He's hardly been seen, constantly spending time in Aiden's room and when it comes to the band, they hang out together as a foursome a lot more than before. There’s no _HarryandLouis_ anymore.

From day one Harry and Louis in whatever shape or form were stuck to each other like glue but now they both seem eager to do everything in group, as if they weren’t ready to face each other in private.

This is new, and not the good kind of new. This is the new that needs intervention and a fucking band meeting, twenty coffees and a lot of patience, because this is very bad.

So very bad in fact that Liam has to follow Louis’ running figure out of the room after their next rehearsal.

He grabs their coats when he passes by the front door and catches up to Louis outside.

He finds him sat down on the stairs of the main door. He must be freezing. “Louis,” Liam whisper-shouts. “Put a coat on.”

Louis looks at him, annoyed. “God. Liam. Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“No. I can’t.”

Louis takes the offered coat, throws it on then sits back down. “I don’t need your pity Liam.”

Liam sighs, shaking his head. “I'm not here for that. You’re just someone who’s been hurt.” He takes the courage and sits down next to him. “I’m just... I’m gonna sit here and read this,” he motions towards the phone awkwardly, fingers wrapping around it.

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to talk, alright?” Liam flips the phone and starts reading a text. “I’m gonna stay quiet,” he adds.

“We’re not friends.”

“I know.”

“Why are you here then?”

“I just… I wish I had someone looking out for me when I was hurt. Like… I think I would need someone if I was as upset as you are now.”

Louis puffs. “How do you know what I’m feeling?”

Liam sees his little self being sad alone in the corner while everyone was having fun. “Personal experience,” he whispers, voice raspy. Louis doesn’t comment on that. Eventually Liam breaks the growing silence. “Do you want me to leave?”

Louis waits for a few beats before he shakes his head. “No,” he croaks out and elbows him in the side. “‘S that the shopping list?”

Liam smiles looking at the text on his phone. “No.”

Louis doesn't reply, it seems he still prefers the silence. That’s not a problem, Liam can work with silence. He’s trying to suppress his smile and he knows he’s failing miserably, and it would be quite the opportunity for Louis to call him out on it or to make fun of him but he leaves it without a comment.

 

*

 

Another week passes and they’re through to the next round, thanks to Harry this time because he carried half of the chorus.

Liam’s not brooding per se but he feels a bit odd. He’s been walking on the second floor for about ten minutes now, trying to figure out what to do with his free time when he hears something and stops in front of the music room. He leans against the leather-wrapped door trying to decipher what the noise is.

 _Not_ voices. He’s not making that mistake twice.

It’s music, piano to be exact.

He frowns in confusion, pushes the handle down and slowly opens the door just to find the one person he least expected to be inside.

Louis is sitting at the piano. Louis Tomlinson. Piano.

He’s a real sight, too: sitting straight, shoulders stiff, eyes closed, body swaying slightly, fingers moving hastily while he sings and plays _Chasing Cars._ Concentration is visible on his face even from the poor angle Liam is watching him from.

He didn't even know Louis played. He didn't even know Louis was capable of such control a piano required before.

He takes in the sight once again, only now noticing that Louis is wearing a football kit. “So this is where you always disappear to?” he blurts out, his voice cuts deep into the slow melody.

Louis’ fingers halt immediately and leave the keys with a screeching sound. “Fuck Liam. What's with you and sneaking up on me all the time?”

“Sorry. I didn’t know you’d be here,” Liam admits, face flushed.

Louis merely nods and goes back to playing without a second glance at him. His fingers hit all the right notes but he doesn’t sing anymore. He wouldn’t choose the most secluded music room if he wanted an audience, Liam realises.

Minutes pass and he's still standing in silence, rooted to his spot, watching Louis.

_I’d rather have fun than be a dick and pry into something I know nothing about._

He remembers the night of the Elton John song and still hears the sinister tone Louis used.

_I’d rather have fun than be a dick and pry into something I know nothing about._

He can't help but stare at Louis with an intense gaze and the more he replays what Louis said the more red his face turns. He feels embarrassment crawl up his cheeks because fuck.

_I accused him._

He was never easy on Louis, he’s acted like a major asshole with him from day one, always arguing and grilling him for meddling with the band dynamics, for not taking responsibility, for basically everything. He demanded him to cut back on the pranks, to put their career first. Louis hardly ever talked back. _Why did you never defend yourself?_ He just ignored Liam most of the time but that night it seemed Liam managed to get under his skin and Louis looked hurt.

_I’d rather have fun than be a dick and pry into something I know nothing about._

And here is Louis, the same loud and obnoxious Louis giving his all while taking extra rehearsal time and being the grown up Liam never thought he would be.

Any normal human being would be out having fun. It's Friday afternoon, for god’s sake, their only free afternoon in the week. Jeez, even Liam himself is fucking around, not doing anything.

“Why aren’t you playing on the pitch, like the others?” Liam blurts out again.

Louis glances up but doesn’t bother with a reply.

“You’re here rehearsing,” Liam clarifies.

This time Louis turns his body fully in his direction, a sarcastic smirk on his face. “Wow, someone’s utterly observant today.”

The snippy tone and the pointed look aren’t missed by Liam, thank you very much. Now, _this_ Louis Tomlinson he can deal with and honestly, the sarcastic comments and never-ending teasing has pushed Liam to his limit. He’s suffered way too much abuse in high school and if there's one thing he learned in life is that bullying never stops on its own unless he himself does something against it. He was always the one being picked on, and he learned to choose his fights, it’s nothing new to him, really. This older Liam is smarter now. He knows that if he wants this band to have a future he needs to be on good terms with all of his bandmates, including Louis.

_Louis._

The one loved by everyone. The one whose presence Liam felt like his fifteen year old self: wanting someone’s attention but never winning it because he wasn’t good or interesting enough.

Damn it. He thought he’s already grown out of this, but looking at Louis getting on with all of their bandmates, while he got to be an observer only has triggered deep-buried memories in him. His attempts at forming a friendship with Louis always seemed to fail.

The problem wasn't with Harry, and it wasn't with Louis either. It was Liam’s own desire to have Louis’ attention, like the older brother’s he never had. It wasn’t for lack of trying on Liam’s part and maybe that was the problem: he was trying too hard, trying to impress him with his knowledge in music, secretly looking for approval from him, like a puppy waiting for praise and a treat, but Louis never really paid attention to him, just nodded stoically and leaned closer to Harry to whisper something to him. As time went on he got more and more annoying and to save his own ego Liam started to scold him for everything he did, ending up being an annoyingly overbearing mum in the process.

Which doesn’t mean he hasn’t been right, but he couldn't help it. Louis was so smooth when it came to connecting with people and Liam’s been watching him with envy, it looked so effortless, something he never had in him: he was never smooth, and certainly wasn’t as funny as Louis.

They were like two radio stations on a different frequency, two parallels that never crossed.

The progress they’ve made in the last few days made Liam optimistic and he would be damned if he stopped trying. He can’t be always the one backing into the corner, he has to stand up otherwise nothing would change.

“You about done being an asshole?”

Louis looks at up him with wide eyes, lips curling up in amusement which turns into- embarrassment? Is that what it is?

“Sorry,” Louis says, barely above a whisper, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just… I can’t get this right,” he adds, still not looking up.

It takes Liam a few seconds to understand that Louis means the music, this particular song and feels like he's on a landmine, because for the first time Louis is showing his vulnerable side to him and he doesn't want to fuck up.

He takes a deep breath and steps forward, approaching the piano with clumsy steps. “Can I…” he motions towards the music sheet.

Louis frowns, gaze still fixed at the piano. “Sure you have better things to do.”

“No. I’m free as a bird.”

This time Louis does look up, his tense posture seemingly relaxing a bit. As cliché as it sounds, maybe music is going to be the common language between them. This moment can be _it_ , the moment he's been waiting for, a chance to finally set things straight with Louis.

“What is it that you can’t get right?” He points his index finger towards the sheet. “'Cause you seemed to hit all the right notes.”

Louis gets the sheet from its holder.

Liam doesn't even know where to look because there’re notes scribbled everywhere.

Louis points his finger at the second verse. “Every time I’m here I… miss this note.”

Liam studies the sheet before he talks. “Okay, let’s sing it together.”

A slight nod from Louis means as much as a thank you, for other human beings at least. Liam smiles to himself, oddly satisfied.

They run through the lines and Liam realises quickly that Louis knows everything he has to do but the nerves seem to get the worst out of him.

They start the song over a few times because Louis is either not getting a note out or sings the first part only then stops abruptly. It’s like he’s his own worst enemy.

“Again.”

“Louis.”

“No, it has to be perfect.”

“It already is.”

“No, I’m shit!”

“You aren’t shit. And... I was wrong. All this time, you know... I thought that you… shit... that you were out there with the lads, not caring about anything and anyone. Don’t ask me why,” he pauses and scoffs. “But I just assumed because you have that vibrant personality, but I never bothered to check on you, to see if you’re being lazy somewhere, and now I bump into you, here in the music room, while you’re practicing and fuck….. why are you even practicing?”

Louis is looking at him with flushed cheeks, eyes unblinking. “You said shit twice.” he croaks out on a high pitched voice.

“There was a fuck as well.” Liam smiles, suddenly realising what Louis is doing, distracting him. “You’re good, you have a great voice and I can honestly say that you deserve the spot to be here, just like any of us.”

Both of them blush, and turn away from each other.

Liam can’t help but feel optimistic because this is the first time they really are actually paying attention to each other and they needed this talk, as clumsy as they’re at it.

It probably helps that they’re alone, that there aren’t others saving them or giving Louis an out from the awkward situations.

“Let’s call it a day.” Louis jumps up and starts walking towards the door.

Liam stalls, disappointed that their blossoming friendship reached an end here.

“Thanks,” Louis says, turning back. “And if you tell this to anyone I will deny it, but for someone with a stick constantly stuck up your arse you have some nice moments.”

A small smile appears on Liam’s face, it doesn't grow bigger only because Liam contains himself.

“ _Sometimes,_ ” Louis adds.

“I knew it wouldn’t last long.” Liam mutters to himself but when he looks at Louis he can’t help but smile. They’re bantering.

There's also a genuine smile on Louis’ face and Liam thinks it was worth it. Insults and all.

Louis walks up to the football that was tossed there and grabs it along with his jacket.

Liam just stares as he’s leaving the room.

“Come on I don’t have all day.”

It takes Liam awkwardly long to register Louis’ invitation is for _him_. He follows Louis in a daze, mind busy wondering what the hell is happening and how nothing he tried had worked before and what did he do right this time and how he can protect their beginning of a friendship. All thoughts aside, he can’t help but grin like a madman.

They walk towards the huge backyard of the mansion.

When they approach the fences of the pitch Louis halts in his track so suddenly that Liam just barely avoids crashing into his back. He takes a quick step to stand next to Louis, waiting for him to walk but Louis stays unmoving, he appears to look at something, not blinking once.

Liam turns in the direction Louis is staring at, quickly getting an answer why they had to stop.

Harry is sitting on a bench with Aiden. They’re laughing loudly and feels like this is the first time in a while Harry has a genuine smile.

Liam follows Louis’ gaze alternate between the pitch and the bench. It's as if he was contemplating his options: In order to reach the pitch they have to walk by them and even if they potentially haven’t been spotted yet, the moment their feet touch the ground they would get their attention.

Liam has a suspicion that _attention_ is the last thing Louis wants. “What’s going on with him?” he tips his head in Harry’s direction.

Louis presses his lips together. “Nothing.”

Liam can’t help but scoff. “Is that what you’ve been telling yourself?”

“Even if there was something going on, you're the last person I want to discuss it with.”

And there it is, the vulnerable moment gone, Louis is back to his snarky self. _The last person._ Ouch. Liam flinches. “Ouch. It just.. It just seems you’re unable to discuss it with the one person this is actually about.” Liam pushes.

“It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it.”

Louis huffs. “And how do I do that?”

“Talk to him.”

“I don’t know how.” he whispers, voice weak.

“What does that even mean? You’re Louis Tomlinson, you always have something to say.”

“Not this time.”

 

*

 

 

“So. Chasing Cars.” Savan claps happily after handing them out the papers. “Have you practiced?”

Liam frowns at the paper. “It's only Harry and me singing,” he blurts out. A few pair of eyes immediately turn to Savan at that.

“Yes. So?” Savan looks at him with one raised eyebrow. “Do you think we need to change something?”

Right in that moment Liam feels a throbbing pain in his big toe and if the message wasn't clear enough he's also getting pinched in the arm with such force that he’s sure it’ll leave a mark. He turns on his left angrily but the anger drains out of him when he sees a panicked Louis mouthing _no_. He’s pretty sure there’a also a _don't you dare_ and the international signing for _I'm going to cut your throat_.

But why? Louis just practiced the song and sang it beautifully. Why did he do that if he doesn't want to sing it?

Liam feels like an idiot all of a sudden and curses himself for stepping in when he wasn't even asked. He exhales deeply and turns back to Savan. “No,” he croaks out. “It's perfect as it is,” he adds, the words tasting sour when they leave his mouth.

“I love that song,” Harry murmurs.

“Let's start then, boys.” Savan clicks on his laptop and the music immediately starts.

Liam hears the melody and an idea comes to him. He raises his index finger eagerly. “What if we…” he takes a glance towards Louis, “if we used a single instrument like a pi---”

He can't finish it because his mouth is covered by little fingers. _Louis_.

“What our Lima bean means is that a _pibcorn_ would sound lovely but you see Lima that's a bit off for such a bittersweet song as this one.” Louis looks at him pointedly.

“Yeah. I agree, Louis.” Savan frowns and turns to Liam. “Liam, I usually like your ideas but come on mate, a pibcorn?” Savan starts laughing.

Liam finds himself biting his bottom lip, catching one of Louis’ fingers. Accidentally, of course. He snaps his gaze at Louis who only rolls his eyes before he finally puts his hands away from his mouth.

 

*

 

“Why did you do that?” Liam is in Louis' tracks the moment Savan calls a wrap.

Louis just shrugs. “It doesn't matter,” he mumbles and catapults towards god knows where.

Goddammit you’d think he's small and slow but he can walk faster than anything when he wants to escape. Liam has to walk twice as fast to reach him. When he's finally behind him he turns him by the shoulder. “It does, Louis. It does matter.”

“Not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he had wanted me to sing he would've already given me some parts. But as he didn’t give me any, the answer is quite clear, Lima, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet yourself.”

“But you never told him! He doesn't even know you--”

“Really?” Louis asks, hands on his hips. “He doesn't know? Why am I in this competition if not to sing? He can't possibly think I came for the free FIFA.”

“But I can talk to hi--”

“Liam.” Louis lifts his open palms. “Don't.”

“Bu--”

“Don't,” Louis warns again, this time more authoritative than before.

So Liam doesn't bring it up.

 

*

 

"You know, out of everything you've been accusing me of, you've never called me out on falling in love with him."

Liam almost chokes on his croissant. He can't believe Louis is opening up to him on the roof of all places. He also can't believe he's on a roof but it seems that everything is unpredictable when it comes to Louis.

He lets out a heavy sigh, looking at the trees, the city swimming in the last rays of sunshine laying in front of him. "I'm gonna be honest with you...it did... it did bother me," he blurts out and wipes a crumb from the edge of his lips.

Louis scoffs. "I knew it."

"No, not like that.” Liam touches Louis’ shoulder and retrieves his hand when he realises he might've smudged Louis’ t-shirt with chocolate syrup. He raises a finger to get Louis' attention. “I mean, let me finish. I was afraid we would lose two-fifths of the band and I thought you’d ruin everything but one day I realised--” he stops to laugh at himself. “It was just a small thing but he took a spoonful of your creme thingy…” he motions with his fingers. “What was it?”

“Whipped cream?”

“No. That French thing. With the fancy name.”

“Créme brulée?”

“Yes, that. So he ate from your plate and only a minute earlier you slapped Zayn’s hand away and I seriously thought you’d be at least annoyed with Harry but you didn’t even blink an eye, you turned to him and offered to _feed_ him.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, voice raw. He clears his throat before he adds. “I did.”

“From then on it was clear to me that this is deeper.”

Louis nods and a bit of awkwardness settles on them so of course, Liam feels the urge to say something. “I can see that you make each other happy and you still stayed professional, well, most of the time. I mean it seems like you can bring the best out of each other so there shouldn't be a problem with you two in love, because honestly what's the difference? That you're two guys?”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“That's just a technicality. You shouldn't be judged for falling for each other, you know? Fuck anyone who says differently."

"Yeah I. Wow. Thanks, Payno."

“You're welcome.” Liam scratches the back of his neck.

“You said _fuck_ again. I never thought you had it in you.” Louis ruffles Liam’s hair.

Liam chuckles, feeling his face go red. “Why?”

Louis shrugs. “Just never heard you utter swear words before, Payno.”

 _Payno_. Liam bites his bottom lip. For a moment he thinks if he should just tell Louis he hates it but fuck it, he decides. "Can I ask something? It isn't about Harry."

Louis seems to be visibly relieved at that. “Okay.”

“Why do you always call me Payno?"

"You don't like it?"

"It sounds like Pain-o."

Louis chuckles. "You're right, it does.” he turns to Liam, expression more serious than before. “But I don't mean it in a negative way."

 _You don't?_   "You don't?" Liam looks at him with wide eyes.

"Nah, I tend to call pretty much all my friends by nickname."

"Does that mean I'm your friend?"

“Oii Lima I wouldn’t go that far.” Louis pinches one of Liam’s nipples -bastard can find it even through three layers- and Liam shrieks which turns into a perfect pout. “But I’ve never talked about this with anyone, and you seem like a good listener. So who knows maybe in a week we’ll be inseparable?” Louis stands up slowly.

Liam brushes the crumbs from his coat and joins him. They climb back down together in silence.

“I’ve never thought we’d be having a normal conversation without jumping down each other’s throats.” Liam says when they reach the door leading back to the house.

“We definitely came a long way.”

Liam stops in his track, just to give himself a few moments to process what Louis just told him. He feels oddly happy and without thinking just hugs him.

Correction.

It's only Liam hugging Louis.

Liam feels like he's back in primary school, pushed away for no reason, rejected for being awkward and different. His heart starts beating faster at the sad memories and swallows thickly, embracing himself for being pushed away in a second again or worse, laughed at.

He's about to pull away so he can quietly find a room and wallow in self pity, he hopes Louis would forget this ever happening. He huffs out an angry breath and feels the wind knocked out of him by Louis who plasters himself against him, hugging him back and holy fuck Liam feels so happy he’s afraid he’s going to cry.

He's hugging Louis Tomlinson.

It's awkward, spontaneous. It's new and weird.

Maybe Louis will call him out on it. Maybe he'll call him softie or something.

He doesn't, thank god.

Instead he pats Liam on the back. “Payno, ever played FIFA?”

Liam feels weirdly happy about being called Payno now, he doesn't find it offensive anymore and even though Louis beats him to 7-0, Liam would still play another round just to see the smile on his new friend’s face again.

 

*

 

Harry’s sitting on the top of the sofa, body slouched and his posture is so tense it reminds Liam of a stretched rubber band. He’s been eyeing Louis the whole afternoon and there's no way Louis hasn't felt the burning look.

“Harry?” Niall calls his name again.

Liam wonders if anyone else noticed it, if they also feel the tension in the air. He peeks at Niall who’s spread his entire body on the armchair, dropping handfuls of popcorn in his mouth lazily, then at Zayn who's changing channels with a bored face.

For an onlooker it's like any other day. Everything looks normal, just a few lads hanging out and letting off steam by watching TV and playing video games.

Liam knows it's anything but.

Niall keeps looking at Harry intensely, a frown appearing on his face, popcorn stopping midway before he slowly pops it in his mouth, gaze still fixed on Harry. “Did ya hear me?”

No, he didn't. Liam is sure of it because Harry looks lost in thought, somewhere far away and Liam’s bet is that it has to do with Louis because if looks could kill Louis would be dead at least three times by now.

Harry takes his eyes off Louis with a wince and a deep sigh like it causes him physical pain to not look at him. “Erm.. sorry what was the question?” he asks Niall. He looks completely out of it.

Liam then turns towards Louis, who's sitting on the windowsill in the same position, legs perched up, this time he's wearing socks but no shoes. His eyes cast down every few seconds, giving his internal turmoil away.

Niall sits up straighter and eyes Harry, gaze flicking between him and Louis, sensing that the answer lies with the both of them. _This is gonna be a train wreck._

“Party?”

Harry only raises one eyebrow in reply.

”In the pub? Aiden’s birthday?” Niall adds with an impatient sigh.

“Sure.” Harry nods, but it’s stoic, almost robotic.

“Louis, mate you’re coming, right?” Niall turns to Louis with a cheerful face.

It’s a brave question, to put it nicely. It surely can't be possible that only Liam hears the time bomb ticking. Okay, he overheard them, but still. He wonders how long it would’ve taken him to realise it if he hadn't overheard them talk. He wonders if he would’ve even noticed it.

Harry twirls his neck towards Louis, his entire body facing him now as he's waiting for his answer.

The moment the question reaches Louis’ brain all color drains from his face. His jaw positively goes slack and he stares at Niall wide-eyed. “Sorry mate I-- I--erm-- I have this-- this thing--” he stutters, hands wildly gesturing some unknown signs, meaning to illustrate his _thing_ but no matter how wildly he’s signalling he can’t compensate for his obvious, well-spotted lie.

Liam squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. _Train wreck._

“Of fucking course,” Harry mumbles.

Liam snaps his head towards Louis, noticing a barely there flinch on his face.

Niall is also eyeing Harry and Louis with alert. “What thing?”

“Nothing,” Harry snarls between his teeth, knowing very well the question was directed at Louis.

“Oh no, is this one of those _things,”_ Niall uses air quotes here, _“_ when you both pretend to be busy just to disappear and snog each other’s faces off?”

_Oh, Niall._

Harry sniggers. “Most definitely not,” and Louis screeches “Nialler, I’d never…” in mock outrage.

The disconnect is perceptible.

Harry’s laughter is spine-chilling, it makes Liam shiver, such a contrast with Louis’ high-pitched stammers. Liam wonders how they’re able to breathe when the air stopped flowing in the room. He also wonders how long this has been going on and the responsible adult he is blames himself for not noticing it before.

Then in the next moment a low thump signals Zayn throwing the remote on the sofa, finally stopping changing the channels. He joins the Harry vs Louis tennis game.

Liam takes his gaze off Zayn now and focused back on Harry and Louis, curiously waiting what’s about to unfold in front of them. He can feel Zayn’s light nudge in his arm but he doesn't _need_ a nudge. He already knows shit's about to go down.

Eventually Niall decides to speak because he was never good with tension or long silences. “Louiiiis, come on mate.”

When Louis doesn't react Niall scoots next to Harry and nudges his side with his elbow. “Come on Haz, talk to your boyfriend! We need the Tommo!”

The moment these words leave Niall’s mouth Liam twirls his neck towards Harry and sees him biting his lips raw, he then shuts his eyes as if weighing his next reaction.

Harry looks up in Louis’ direction. Their eyes lock. Louis doesn’t hold the gaze. Instead, he dips his head down, as if his intense gaze was certainly unbearable.

Liam can only agree. He looks ready to---

“Not my boyfriend.” Harry spits out.

SNAP.

Liam whips his head around, all three of them are gawking from Harry to Louis and back, mouth permanently stuck in an O shape. _Fuck._

_What was that?_

“Don’t look at me. Ask him!” Harry spits out, tone flippant and chilly. He seems to be on the edge of exploding, can't sit without fidgeting or  keep up eye contact.

How did we go from a fight to a breakup? When have things escalated this far?

He doesn’t know. The only thing he knows for sure, is that Harry is not making it easy on Louis.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of all I'd like to thank for the amazing feedback the previous chapter received. I know many of you hold back on reading wips, but deemed 50+K worth it to dive in and read it.
> 
> There's no trigger warning in this chapter. Nothing graphic or disturbing in my honest opinion. This chapter is almost 13K long so hopefully it'll compensate you for the shorty that was chapter 5.
> 
> This is one of my favorite chapters, we're time traveling back to the bungalow times, then back to the present.
> 
> I hope you'll love it as much as I do.
> 
> Peace,
> 
> G.

**Two months earlier**

_At Robin's bungalow._

 

It all started with a cock.

Early in the morning a cock of all things woke them up and it wasn't the _good kind of cock,_ mind you. It was the more colorful, feathery one and it was obnoxiously loud, louder than any animal has a right to be at five in the morning.

It was loud indeed and it did wake them all up, but everyone got over it. They all grumbled a few collective obscenities then turned on their other sides and fell back to sleep fairly quickly.

Not Harry though.

He’s been bitching about everything since then, pulling faces, complaining about things that never seemed to bother him before. He's being a right twat and so uncharacteristically loud that they all noticed.

“What's with him?” Niall asks when Harry finally leaves the room with a towel on his shoulder and traipses towards the shower.

“I wish I knew,” Louis replies while watching his  retreating  back. Maybe a shower will do him good.

He can only hope.

He _never_ wants to see that boy sad if he's being honest and would very much sacrifice anything for even one tiny smile.

The thought alone scares him shitless.

He's already falling so hard for him as it is that thoughts including _never_ and _always_ about his best friend aren't the most productive things to think about when the object of his affection is wildly annoyed by something. Or someone. It's his mission to find out what exactly.

While waiting for him to come out he gets to the kitchen and makes two mugs of cocoa. The streaming cocoa has always reminded him of his childhood, of their crowded kitchen, the stories his mum always shared, all good memories. He leans against the counter and holds the mug with eyes closed, letting the steam and the smell of home warm him. Cocoa is the solution for everything, his mum always said. Who knows, maybe it'll work this time as well.

“That for me?” Harry asks, fingers sheepishly motioning towards the mug.

Louis nods blankly.

Harry plops down on the kitchen chair with his newly acquired mug in hand. He laces his fingers through it and cups it between both of his hands.

Louis is watching him closely. It's hard to tell if he's calmer than before, these few seconds spent in his presence aren't really enough to judge his mood but whatever his mood is, Louis’ more than ready to put an end to this. “So, what do you want to do today? Anything in mind?” he asks, treading his words carefully.

“Nothing.”

“Wanna stay inside? Go outside? Play foo--”

“Not in the mood.” Harry mumbles between two sips.

“A lazy pool day?” Louis offers thinking about the pool party yesterday that lasted until they were five trembling raisins.

“It’s too hot.”        

Louis stretches his neck and looks out of the window behind him. There's not a single ray of sunshine because it’s still the arse end of the morning.

 _Too hot_ his arse.

“Okay.” He releases a deep sigh and downs the last drops of cocoa. He walks to the sink and starts to rinse his mug with vague movements. Every cell in his body is telling him to leave because Harry’s being a proper right mess but it sucks seeing him sad so when he reaches the doorway he stops and looks at his brooding best friend. “Enjoy your cocoa.”

He leaves him like that, hoping he'll find a way out of this funk himself and it'll pass.

It _has to_ pass.

 

It doesn't. If it's even possible, it gets worse.

Not long after they finish their late breakfast, Robin and Anne make a surprise visit. Anne brings a delicious casserole which is quite the novelty after living on Cheetos and frozen food for a week now and of course, it tastes as amazing as Louis imagined.

“Haz, you'll have to ask for the recipe,” he mumbles mouth full and rubs a comforting hand against Harry’s shoulder. Harry visibly tenses up at that and bolts up with his glass in hand.

Louis’ gaze follows him closely as he walks up to the kitchenette and comes back with a glass full.

He can only frown. He's pretty sure Harry's glass was full, having refilled it just a minute ago, but on the strange occasion that it indeed got empty en route to the serving table, he would've passed the water bottle to him if he had asked for it but whatever.

When finished they all lay down and enjoy the warm summer day and listen to Robin who's quite the storyteller while sipping their freshly squeezed lemonade.

Then around 3 PM Anne and Robin excuse themselves to attend an art show.

 

 

*

 

 

“Do you want to join?” Louis asks Harry while holding a deck of cards.

Harry just twitches his lip seemingly looking for easy ways to cut the conversation short. “Not in the mood,” he mumbles.

That’s when Louis starts panicking even more. “Fancy a walk? Some nice books to read? Playing music with the lads? Or I can hook up the karaoke machine. Or maybe you’re up for Monopoly? Scrabble?” Even god forbid Scrabble in which he’s always lost against Harry. He's also pretty sure it was the longest rant in history.

Harry doesn't even arse to make up a good excuse, just shakes his head at each of the suggestions.

Louis can't say it doesn't make him feel shit, can't say it doesn't hurt to hear each of his suggestions turned down with a single shake of a head. He hates that he can't find a way to help and although every fiber of his being is against it he decides to give him some more time hoping that Harry will snap out of it and sort himself out.

He joins the boys who’ve just started playing cards. He sits down and looks at the boys with a tight smile trying to let his concerns go but his eyes are constantly glued to the closed bedroom door wondering what Harry is doing. He becomes fidgety and so lost in thoughts that he loses a hand and barely hears Liam’s obnoxious mocking for not paying attention.

His mind is busy with Harry.

Always Harry.

 

It takes more than half an hour for Harry to trot out of the room to the kitchen, all through the front door only to slam it shut behind him.

Louis lets out a pained sigh. Alone time didn’t work then. Great.

“Sorry mates,” he mumbles and drops the cards he’s been holding and goes to find him. He can't concentrate when Harry is being like _that_.

“That means I won!” Liam shrieks.

Louis wants to beg to differ because _no fucking way_ but he’s on a mission now and even one Little Payne in the arse won't shake him so he just rolls his eyes because _of fucking course_.

He quickly shakes the thought off and his mind is back on Harry --surprise-- because he needs to do something and honestly, after getting so many 'no’s’, another one is going to be unacceptable in his dictionary.

He walks around the house looking for ideas what to do and that's when he catches sight of a checkered battered blanket in Liam’s hand. “Hey, mind lending me that?”        

“I do, actually. My feet are cold,” Liam replies colder than necessary.         

“It’s hotter than hell!” Louis shrieks, incredulously.

“Outside yes, but the A/C is on.”        

“Why don’t you wear socks then?”        

At that, Liam lets out a breath through his nostrils. Even has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Really? That’s rich coming from you Louis.”   

The snippy tone isn't missed by Louis, thank you very much. It shouldn’t be anyone’s fucking business if he wore fucking socks or not. If his own mum is okay with it, which she gladly is, then everyone should just shut the hell up about it. “Hey, no need to be rude, just asked for the blanket,” He takes a few steps backwards to leave the room. He doesn’t have time for Liam _the_ Payne.       

“Why do you need it anyway?” Liam asks.

The words stop Louis in his track. “To cheer Harry up,” he admits with burning cheeks.

“Oh. Then here you go. I’ll wear socks instead.”

Louis frowns. He certainly knows an enigma when presented with one but this human called Liam Payne is like the epitome of mystery.

The puzzle piece that didn't fit.

Louis could click with everyone so rapidly and became friends with most of his bandmates. Most of them. When it comes to Liam he still feels like he has to tread the water carefully. It's like when you talk to complete strangers and don't know what’s the right thing to say and what's pushing it too far. That's also another thing that Louis can't ever find the right thing to say because Liam happily picks a quarrel at pretty much anything.

They’ll need to sit down and talk, it seems to be inevitable, he’s afraid. Maybe sometime later. In the future. His gaze drops to the blanket.

 _Definitely_ in the future.

“Thanks mate,” he mumbles, accepting the blanket with a small grin and goes to look for Harry.

If there's a little hop in his steps.. Well let's say, Liam seems to be smart enough to shut up about it and that.. Louis can work with.

In the future, of course.

 

*

 

He finds Harry slouched near the lawn, the sight alone feels like the prime example of someone wallowing in self pity. He coughs to make his presence known.

Harry whips his head around at that. “Oh hi.”

"Hey." He watches as Harry tears a blade of grass off the ground and places it on top of a neat pile. He only then notices that half of the lawn around him has been ripped out. Gosh this has to sto-- "Harold! We’re going on a picnic!” he exclaims at the top of his voice.

Harry immediately stops with the destruction of the lawn and looks up at Louis with a frown. He observes the blanket in his hand then slides his gaze back on his face. “No basket?”

Okay, he sort of has a point but damn his observing skills. There’s no food either. Ah, well.        

“Use your imagination Harold.” Louis replies holding an extended arm out, determined that a picnic can work out without food or a wicker basket. “Now. Shall we?”

Harry accepts the invitation and Louis doesn't miss the little smile tugging on his lips at the gesture.

They walk arm in arm, trying to find a passable picnic spot which in itself shouldn't be a hard task but Louis’ too busy calming his pounding heart down to clearly distinguish between grass and grass.

They can't walk in circles forever so he points at the grass nearby the flowerbed deeming it smooth enough that their backsides won't hurt. “Let's sit there.”

He kneels down and spreads the blanket on the ground as neatly as he can, even making sure the edges are smooth. He isn't stalling, per se, just tries to find the right words to cheer Harry up with. The realisation suddenly hits him that he sort of organised a picnic and has been too busy looking for a blanket to think about what he's actually going to say. Hes been wracking his brain for an entire minute and is about to ready to shoot himself when an idea finally comes to his mind. He sits down quickly and pats the space next to him, eager to get this going.

Harry slumps down next to him, still looking morose.

Louis sits up straighter, almost rubbing his palms together in anticipation. “Now shoot.”

“You want me to shoot you?”        

“With questions, Harold!”        

Harry’s eyes widen and a ghost of a smile appears on his face for the first time that day. “I love questions!” he bellows.        

“I know that!” Of course he does. One of his favorite pastime is talking to him and another one is to make him happy. So it’s a win-win for both parties.        

“And I can ask anything,” Harry states. It’s not a question.

Louis raises one eyebrow, amused at his testing the waters and negotiating his terms before they even started. “You can ask anything,” he confirms and bites his lip from uttering something that isn't to be uttered.

They talk for hours, from the cliché _favorite color, car brand,_ and _choose three items you’d take with you on a stranded island_ to the more serious _biggest fears_ , _previous accidents_ , _schools_ , _music_ , _instruments they play or want to learn to play_ , _families_ , _footie teams_ and _future plans._

They make up their own truth or dare picnic version without the dare and without the actual picnic. Somehow it’s even better like this.

“August twentythree!”

“No, March,” Louis replies. He has to bite his lip because Harry’s pout is just too adorable.

“Argh. Again! Again!” Harry cries, sitting up straighter on the blanket.

Louis would allow him to start over approximately two million times more, he’s so gone for him. Somewhere, a cloud is sighing, Louis is sure of it.

“Okay,” Harry grabs Louis’ hand and looks him in the eye while he counts. “Lottie, 4th Aug.” Louis nods in approval and Harry lifts his thumb. “Fizzy, August, sixteen.” Harry giggles when he lifts Louis’ index finger. He fucking giggles and it’s undeniably the sweetest, most riveting sound Louis has ever heard. Goddamn, this boy will be the reason for his early death.

“Daisy and Phoebe, March twentythree.” Louis nods again and Harry lifts up his third and fourth finger.

Harry’s beaming at him, his eyes are shining with happiness, and Louis is so proud of him for taking the time to learn about his siblings that he lifts a hand and brushes his thumb along Harry’s cheek, the action unconscious, instinctual and it has Harry part his lips without missing a beat. Louis leans in close enough to notice the flecks of blue in Harry’s irises. He can still catch Harry closing his eyes, and leans in closer, closer.

Then Harry flicks his lids open and those beautiful green eyes turn wide in alarm. He blinks a few times before shaking his head refusing to ---

Fuck! Louis only then realises what he's done. He almost fucking kissed him. How could he be so reckless? Harry shook his head at him. _Fuck_. He fucking _hated_ it. Louis wouldn’t blame him if he just got up and left or maybe if he slapped him, even, but no, he was never a violent person. _Fuck_.

Harry instantly turns away and looks ahead instead, there’s a frown stubbornly etched on his forehead.

Louis drops his hand to his side and scoots a few inches to the right.

Harry scoots back to him, while he keeps looking ahead and closes the distance between them. Their shoulders and thighs don’t touch like they normally do, but at least he doesn’t seem to find Louis’ presence repulsive. At least that.

Louis feels Harry’s gaze drill a hole into him and only risks a glance when the burn becomes unbearable. He releases a shaky breath. If Harry had been offended he wouldn’t have scooted closer, right? _Dream on Tomlinson, dream on_.

Harry places his right hand on the blanket, and that touch alone makes such a loud bang that it's literally ringing in Louis’ ear but in reality Harry’s hand lands gracefully on the fibers of the blanket. Louis would know that, he's been registering Harry’s every movement, it's as if his senses were heightened, he's suddenly aware of every invisible microfiber floating around and creating this ugly invisible wall that separates them. He wants to reach out and swipe them all away, wants to see that wall crumble to the ground.

He’s never been as aware of distances and touches on offensive surfaces that aren’t him as he is now.  

They never had _distance_ before, point blank, it simply wasn’t part of the Louis and Harry dictionary. And Louis just had to go and ruin it. He doesn’t know what came over him, how he lost his grip. His heart starts thudding in his ears, too heavy, too loud, _too much_. He peeks at Harry and waits, eyes hurting from constantly sneaking glances without twisting his head.

It’s quiet, it’s _too quiet_ , it’s as if the fucking nature stopped its routine, birds stopped chirping, the wind stopped brushing the edges of the blanket, even the sun escaped behind the clouds just to witness a boy fucking it all up.

Why is it so quiet?

And why does this silence feel so heavy when they were always good with silence. They never had awkward silences. Louis cannot recall an awkward moment, it’s as if it’s been law that whatever they do or wherever they are they’re tuned into each other’s frequency, fitting like two puzzle pieces. Heck they sometimes craved to just _be_ , to be able to escape this beehive and they just sat next to each other, alone and they didn't exchange a single word for hours and it was perfect that way. Louis would always put his hands together that they can both appreciate quiet.

Fuck that now. He can’t deal with this much quiet.

He lets out a huff of air and contemplates on getting up as gracefully as he can and pull his heavy broken heart behind him, and leave it outside for the night because it wouldn’t fit in that bloody bungalow. He just wants to leave the place while his pride is still intact.

Damn. What was he thinking touching Harry so recklessly? It’s one thing to be head over heels in love with your best friend and admire him from afar but it's a completely different thing to do something about it and make everything awkward. The thing is, the touches were always there, but not as intimate as touching the cheek and even if there was a moment when his fingers met with Harry’s face it was all brushed off as friendly or caring but not fucking intimate.

Intimate. Not an almost kiss.

Jesus Christ on a bicycle what was he thinking and why did he have to act on it now when he was perfectly fine admiring him silently but who is he kidding he's way past the point where friendship with Harry is enough.

 _And this quiet_.

When he looks at Harry he notices his bottom lip disappear as if he swallowed it completely. His brain must be on overdrive thinking about the ways to let him down easily. He’s probably thinking about the most polite way to tell him he isn’t interested.

For god’s sake, he would so do that, being his lovely charming self even while breaking hearts.

He’s probably beating himself up now, because they’re in a fucking band and god knows what kind of avalanche Louis triggered mere minutes ago. He can practically hear how Harry can’t wrap his smart head around the fact that his best friend made his advances on a picnic without a fucking basket.        

 _Fuck!_ It shouldn’t be Harry’s task to clear this mess up. No, Louis can’t let that happen, this has to be clarified stat. “I... I’m sorry.”        

Harry seems to be snapping out of his reverie, as if realising only then what happened. “No, you don’t have to. There’s really no--.”        

“No, I really do, I.” Louis rests his palm on his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have.”  He waits for a reaction from Harry which would be easier to catch if he had his eyes open, but he doesn’t dare look at him. He doesn’t want to see the regret in those eyes, doesn't want to hear him apologise again.

For god’s sake it’s him who crossed the line.

He can hear his own ragged breathing and his chest is already empty at the mere thought of no more Harry in his life. That’s so unfair, he’s only known him for a few weeks. He isn’t ready to let this boy go. Ever. For god’s sake how the fuck will he do this band thing after what happened when he’s so in love with him!

He feels a slight touch, maybe a ghost of a touch, like a light breeze waking up from its slumber on this bright summer day.

_Or maybe his imagination._

He expects it to end, but it doesn't go away. His heart skips a beat and time stops running because that can’t have just been a breeze. That something is still in contact with his skin, still touching him. He doesn’t dare to open his eyes to check what it is.

He feels it again.There's a light squeeze and that can only be Harry’s fingers closing on his hand.         

Harry’s skin on his. Harry Styles’ fingers closing on top of Louis Tomlinson’s and _oh god_.

He whips his head up in alarm or hope, he doesn’t even know anymore and his gaze flickers between Harry’s face and their hands. Their _very_ connected hands. His mouth is slack and open, movements stilled as if his brain short-circuited deciding it would be the perfect time to go on strike, not minding to catch up with his body. He closes his eyelids when Harry reaches out to touch his chin just to push it up to close his mouth.

Louis’ eyes whip open. Close his what? What the fuck.

Was he really that obviously drooling that even the ever-sweet Harry Styles had the urge to shut his mouth? Jesus Christ. He has never felt this embarrassed in his life.

He crushes his lids shut, willing the scene to go away and to get back to their original setting where friendships are not fucked up by bold face touching.

Harry squeezes his hand again. Their eyes lock.

Harry’s slow smile spreads into a lopsided grin. Louis is just really fucking grateful Harry never makes a comment about his quickened pulse.        

“Sorry, I... erm.. I was just surprised. I didn’t want to confuse you,” Harry stammers out.

Louis can’t believe his ears. Only Harry fucking Styles would say sorry on his behalf.

Only him.        

“No, Haz, you really don’t have to. I feel so fucking stupid, you know? You shouldn’t be the one apologising when it was me who crossed the line.”

Harry furrows his brows. “I think I like you?”

Louis’ heart stops beating and his vision gets blurry. Did Harry really just-- and what the-- “Are you asking me or?”

Harry punches him lightly in the arm. “Hey it’s not funny.”

“No. Sorry, I don’t... I tend to be an arsehole when I’m embarrassed, as you might already know. If it isn’t glaringly obvious, I might like you too.”  

 _Might_. That’s the understatement of the century.

“Good.” Harry smiles at him and instead of the smile spreading to a grin, worry lines appear on his forehead again. “I’m just... I was confused? Like... I have these feelings,” Harry squints at his side, as if to check if Louis isn't running away at the mere mention of _feelings_ but Louis is perfectly fine, sitting on his spot, caressing Harry’s knuckles with the hand Harry isn’t holding down.

Louis wants to calm him, reassure him it's okay. He wants to brush Harry’s fingers so he pulls his hands from underneath Harry’s monstrous ogre ones and slots his fingers between his. “Don’t be scared.” he whispers softly.

Harry bites his lip.

They lie down on their backs, devouring the late summer day and the sun dancing on their skin.

 

 

*

 

 

“Can I ask?”

Louis turns on his side and squints one eye open at him. “Of course, love.”        

“It’s just... when did you know?”        

“You’re not beating around the bush, are you?” Louis chuckles. “I’m afraid you have to be more specific than that, love.”        

“That you like boys? Or are you bisexual or _othersexual?_ ” Harry corrects himself, eyes widening in panic.        

“Hey, it’s okay.” Louis squeezes his fingers. ”You can ask alright?” He takes a deep breath before he starts. “Where do I start? _You?”_ He lets out a shaky huff of air, pausing for a breath but deciding to be bold. “Pretty much from the moment I saw you.”

Harry lets out a puff of air through his nostrils.

Louis frowns. “No, really. I went home in a daze after the audition, you know? And I wasn’t angry about the trousers, I did tell you the truth then, but it got me thinking how many people I would allow to do that, to piss on me without shouting their faces off and the list turned out to be incredibly short.” He blushes at the memory. He really did jot a few names down. “That was one of the first signs of how big trouble I was in. Big big trouble.”   

“Go on.” Harry instructs, rather smugly.

“Look who’s talking.” He pinches Harry’s upper arm. “You’re making me do all these admissions and you haven't even shared anything.” He looks at their joined hands and keeps rubbing circles onto Harry’s knuckles. “Okay.” It comes out raspy so he clears his throat. “There’s not much to tell about us. I mean I was hoping.” He snorts as he darts his head towards Harry, not hiding his blush. “ _Dreaming_ this would happen, _we_ would happen---”        

“Same. Yeah... I. Yeah.”        

“Yeah?” Louis breathes out, eyes lost in the beautiful greens, that are greener than the grass swimming in the drops of dew on an early summer day. He gazes at the plump rosy lips, mind wondering if they're as soft as they look. He has to pinch his own hand not to lean in and do something that would be absolutely rushing it.

_I think I like you._

You don’t kiss someone after _I think I like you_. You kiss after _I’m hundred percent sure I like you_.

They haven’t even discussed being boyfriends, or being serious or being anything, really. Their first admissions happened only about thirty seconds ago, so it’s surely not the time to exchange heated kisses. Right? Even if those lips seem to want it too. Even if Louis himself _craves_ it. He doesn't want to fuck it up. Or rush it. He shakes the thoughts away and focuses on recalling Harry’s questions to distract himself from the mere thought of those pink plump lips grazing over his own. Damn what a vision. A vision he doesn’t fucking need right now. Right.

He clears his throat. “ _Me liking boys only?_ I think that was sort of on the cards... I mean I don’t even know how to explain but I’ll try. So as you know I had only been with Hannah so far.”

“ _Had_?” Harry asks, eyes big.

 _Shit_. “Yeah, it’s uhm.” he cleares his throat before going on. “Last time I went home I told her it’s over.”

"Oh my god.” Harry puts his hand over his mouth and buries his head between his knees. “You were… that was… that was… at least a month ago.”

“Yeah.”

“But I.. god I thought you.. but I heard you. I heard you talk to her yesterday evening and you told her you miss her and love her and I felt so fucking sad and when I woke up I felt empty and just didn’t want to see anyone, you know?”

“You thought I…..? That's why you’ve been-- It wasn't-- That was my mum, Harry. I was missing me mum.” He reaches towards Harry and takes his hand back, right where it belongs. In his.

“God I’m so incredibly dumb.” Harry blinks a few times and starts biting his lip.

Louis wants to stop him from doing so, wants him not to blame himself. He hates seeing Harry this upset. He lets his thumb draw soothing circles on Harry's knuckles. “You’re not,” he whispers. “You couldn’t have known about Hannah and me being over.”

“When did that happen and why didn’t you...”

“Tell you?” Louis sniggers letting out a huff of air. “And what would I have told you exactly, Harry? That I broke up with my girlfriend because I realised I had feelings for my best friend? Who happens to be a boy? A boy who happens to be you?” He snorts. “And what if you don’t-- You have to admit it wouldn't---”

“Okay now that you’re putting it like this, it does sound kind of weird.”        

“So I didn’t.. tell you, that is.” He waits until Harry directs his eyes at him because what he’s about to share is too big not to follow every second of Harry’s reaction. “I don’t know what or who I am yet but maybe that’s more than telling that I wasn’t surprised the slightest when I realised I fancied you. I mean I’ve always appreciated the male body more than boobs, so there wasn’t some kind of big gay freakout that _oh my god I like a boy while I have a girlfriend_ and I certainly wasn’t trying to deny it.” He sniggers. “It’s not like I had any chance to get you out of my head with your constant presence and you haven't made it easy with your walking around half-naked, IF THAT, for fuck’s sake.”        

“You don’t like it when I’m shirtless?”

“I see you managed to grab the essence of what I said.” Louis chuckles and Harry pouts. “No, I like the half-nakedness, babe, but…” Louis cuts himself off and whips his head towards Harry.

Harry holds another blade of grass for dear life and his hand is stopped somewhere mid-air. He seems completely frozen. But before Louis has the chance to scold himself for fucking up yet again, Harry closes his eyes briefly, then when he opens them again there's a smile sneaking at the edge of his lip. “Say it again.” he whispers.

Louis’ shoulders sag in relief. “Babe.” He says it softly, the word tasting like marshmallows. “Babe.” He smiles stupidly when the words leave his lips.

“I like it.” Harry tips his head to the side and looks at him.

He has to scratch his nails deep into the flesh of his skin to stop his mouth running about love and babies and marriage and always and forevers. “Good, because if you had told me I fucked it up for the third time today I would have hidden my head under a cardboard box for a week,” he mumbles.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment, as if Louis said something stupid but then he smoothes his features, fighting against a small smile that’s threatening to tug at his lips, mischief clearly present in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’d cut two holes for your eyes.”

Louis chuckles. “Yeah that’s certainly a good idea.” He wonders what Harry really thinks.

“And I’d give you a glass of water three times a day. And an apple because apple keeps the doctor away.”        

“Wow, look at this astonishing five star treatment. Three glasses of water and an apple. Where can I sign up?”

Harry giggles. “Open 24/7.”        

“As tempting as it sounds, I’m happy you like the pet name and I don’t have to wear a ridiculous cardboard box.”        

“I think I will call you Snuggle Butt.”        

Louis narrows his eyes. “You’re not a babe. I take it back.”        

“Why?” Harry looks like an actual baby, with his lips pursed in a permanent pout.

“Because if you called me like that I’d feel like a piece of meat. As if my arse was my only asset.”

If possible Harry’s eyes glint even more when he opens his mouth to speak but Louis plasters all of his fingers on his mouth. “Don’t you dare throw another pun.”        

“You’re no fun.“ Harry pouts and licks Louis’ fingers.        

“I was wrong. You’re actually worse than a baby.” Louis pulls his wet fingers away and wipes them on his pants. “C’mere.” Harry sits between Louis’ legs and it would be uncomfortable as he’s slightly taller, but Louis straightens his back to be taller and Harry shrinks to be two sizes smaller, back fitting Louis’ chest comfortably.

Perfect combination.

He places his chin on Harry’s shoulder blade and they both look at the beautiful scenery in front of them. There's a light breeze soothing the skin of their neck which got burnt pretty badly as they sat out in the open. It stings already. It’s worth it though.

He wouldn’t change a thing.

“But I don’t have anything else in my mind and I can’t call you Lou.” Harry pouts.

“Why not?” Louis frowns and they both turn towards each other at the same time and _fuck._ They’re too close, with Harry turning his head to the side and if Louis leans in a little bit to close the distance…. _No._  

“Because that’s your name.” Harry whispers, eyes fixed on Louis’ lips. “The purpose of pet names is that they aren't actual names.”He talks so slowly and Louis can see how every word forms on his lips.

His pink lips.

 _Not the right time Tomlinson._        

He wants to put his mouth on Harry’s so badly it hurts.

_Not.the.right.time._

They deserve better. The day has already been so hectic, even though it turned out happy, he doesn’t want their first kiss like this. He knows he can’t lose his grip, not with Harry looking at him like that, as if he hung the fucking moon.

 _Not.the.right.fucking.time_.

He forces his attention back to the pet names. “Lou is more than okay,” His voice is scratchy and he feels his own cheeks pinken. “In fact, after you so carelessly dropped Snuggle Butt you’ll need to run all of your ideas through me because I fear for myself.”

“Heeey.”  Harry chuckles and pinches him in the arm.       

Louis locks his hand around his wrists and wraps his arms around his waist. “Any more questions? I feel like a Play Doh left to melt in the sun.”        

“Erm, I do have some.” Harry looks at him timidly.

Louis can’t help but smile fondly. “Go ahead then.”        

“You haven’t finished your answer about your sexual orientation,” Harry whispers. “But it’s okay if you don’t know yet.” he quickly adds. 

“No I. I do… I do know Haz, I think? It’s boys for me. And I’ve been… I’ve always appreciated a nice little body you know? I noticed about a year ago that… that those bodies I check out always belong to men and that was when… you know when... I had an internal freak out. I had so many questions but I ignored them and jumped into this relationship with Hannah. I think it was a last resort of sorts. You know, I really tried to look at her like I did at boys but it’s-- something was missing.” He stops for a moment. “My mum found me crying in my room so I told her.” He takes a deep sigh, a shudder runs through him. “I was terrified what she would think about me but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

“I bet she was amazing.”

“She really was.” Louis bites his bottom lip to hide his smile.

Harry waits for a second before he asks. “Did you know already? I mean when we met?”

“Wasn’t it clear from how much I flirted with you in that toilet?”

Harry shrugs, but there’s a trace of a smile at the edge of his lips.

Louis shakes his head fondly. “Yeah, there was no spark with Hannah. So I had to face it and admit that boobs just aren’t for me,” he sniggers before turning serious. “It really was only a matter of time before I broke up with her. Planned it for a while, maybe I was waiting for a last push or something.”        

“Me,” Harry whispers.        

“You,” Louis replies, barely audible. He isn’t even sure Harry hears him but when he locks gaze with him, he sees that his face is crimson red. And if that isn’t the cutest fucking thing, a blushing Harry Styles, then Louis doesn’t know what.

If he just leaned in.. but no, he keeps his eyes ahead to prevent eye contact with Harry by any means and decides to go on.

“Then you came into the picture and brushed all of my doubts away… challenging me completely to be brave, and step up. To just… be who I really am.”        

“One more question?”        

Louis nods against Harry’s shoulder.        

“Will we tell the boys?”        

 _Shit_. Louis gulps loudly, body tensing against Harry’s as he wonders about the answer. He sure as hell knows he doesn't want to hide this but has no clue what Harry wants. “I don’t.. I mean.. I really don’t think we should hide anything from them. Do you?” He snaps his eyes back at Harry with what he’s sure can only be described as terrified.      

“No, I don’t want to.”        

”Good.” Louis says, voice shaky. “They’ve probably figured the whole thing out themselves, anyway.”        

“Niall definitely suspects something because he’s been giving me _the look_ for days.”       

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.” Louis drops a peck on Harry’s shoulder as if that’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is. Maybe he'll have to realise there's a lot of things coming as natural when they concern Harry.  

 _Kiss him. Just turn his head and kiss him._ He doesn’t allow himself to think about that. Not even about whether a kiss on the shoulder is the right thing to do and forces his focus back on the original topic.

The lads.

“Do you think they’d... support it?” he whispers, heart jumping out of his chest at the jumbling mess of thoughts in his head.

Harry doesn’t react, not with words anyway, but his neck twirls in his direction, and his incredibly ridiculously green eyes are piercing to Louis’ lips so fucking bluntly. Then Harry licks his own lips. _God_. Louis can't help but stare as his pink tongue swipes through his bottom lip.

“I hope so,” Harry whispers breathlessly.

_Fucking.Kiss.Him._

Louis shakes his head before turning away and starts a topic about the first thing that comes in mind. Family. Safe topic. Easier to maintain eye contact.

It seems unnatural, the change of topic and Louis is pretty sure Harry knows it too, but fortunately plays along without calling him out on it.

They talk a little bit more about everything until huge droplets begin to fall on them ending their first basketless and foodless picnic ruthlessly.

The droplets turn into rain and when they hear the beginning signs of a thunderstorm they jolt up and sprint to the bungalow.

“Fuck, we left the blanket there.” Louis curses when they stand on the porch, protected by the rain.

“That was my only proof that I actually had a picnic with you.” Harry pouts.

“We’ll have hundred more. With--”

“A wicker basket,” Harry cuts in and starts counting on Louis’ hand. “Glasses.” He lifts Louis’ pointer finger. “Food.” He starts giggling breathlessly which makes Louis giggle as well.

“Blank-- fuck we left the blanket there!”

“You already said that,” Harry laughs. “Are you going crazy?” He asks and his eyes are shining from happiness.

“Maybe I am,” Louis replies, lost in those irises.

Missing items aside, it’s still the most perfect picnic he could’ve imagined because Harry’s hand is still in his. That's right.

And although the rain washes everything away and it pours the whole evening, no thunderstorms and unexpected natural elements are powerful enough to wipe the stupid crazy happy grin off Louis’ face.

 

*

 

They stay inside for the rest of the evening and everyone welcomes them back with a smile or a pointed look. Niall not so subtly sends Louis a thumbs up and all Louis can do in return is smile back at him.

Harry opts for checking out some books with Liam and Niall while Zayn plays Lego Racers with Louis.

Harry seems to be buried deep into those books and doesn't look up that often, at least if he had done so he would've caught Louis’ 100 watt smile. Then there's one time when he does look up at the same time as Louis (which isn’t hard because Louis’ been eyeing him for the better part of the evening) and his body freezes when their eyes lock. He drops his head instantly, like teenagers do with their first crushes and looks in all directions before diving back into their book.

It’s so endearing that Louis can’t help but smile. He gets a nudge in the side and turns back at Zayn who raises one brow at him. Louis only rolls his eyes and takes a sudden right turn driving his car to a shortcut.

“Hey, since when--” Zayn starts. “I'm out, I can't with you.” He places his controller on the coffee table and leans back against the sofa.

“It takes special talent, Z.” Louis replies while successfully performing a Super Slide and with that overtakes Rocket Racer and wins the game.

As the evening passes by Harry keeps hanging out with Niall instead of having some alone time with Louis and that’s okay because Louis had his own one on one time and they had a great picnic.

When they all take turns to the bathroom to brush their teeth Louis manages to catch Harry’s eye.

“Hey,” he greets him, and wants to roll his eyes at himself because really Tomlinson? A _hey_?

“Hi,’ Harry replies curtly and smiles back at him, but it looks forced and his eyes turn sad all of a sudden and before Louis has a chance to ask him he already barreled towards his bed.

He has no idea where the sudden sadness came from. The day was perfect. They talked. They touched. They got to know each other better. They had _the talk_ and they didn’t kiss but it was still perfect as it was. Besides, Louis is absolutely sure that a wrongly timed kiss would’ve been pushing it too far. Not kissing him was the right thing to do. It _was_ the right thing to do. Even when Harry’s gaze was reverently fixed on his lips, Louis did the right thing. Or when Harry licked his lips, looking at Louis’ own as if it held him spellbound. Sweet Lord, he has such a beautiful pink tongue and Louis wants to suck it between his lips so bad but no. No. _No!_ Abort.

He’s absolutely sure he did the right thing. You see, he's trying really hard to convince himself.

He grunts and smashes his face into the pillow. _Fuck_. He didn't do the right thing.

“Lou, you're okay?” Niall asks amused from his bed.

“Yeah,” he mumbles and avoids that Irish gaze even though it feels like it's burning him alive.

What if Harry misunderstood it? Fuck, that's the last thing Louis wants. Harry already said earlier that he was confused. Not kissing him while they both clearly wanted it isn’t making it less confusing. No. It complicates it even more. Louis wants to set everything crystal clear because it’s Harry, it’s _his_ Harry (okay not his per se but it has the potential to turn into that) and wants to make sure Harry has no sliver of doubt about his feelings.

He recalls Harry’s forced smile and how the corners of his mouth turned down and if possible starts to feel more shit because hours passed by and Harry still hasn't talked to him one word since they came back from outside.

They all go to bed and he's tossing and turning for a long time, mind going overdrive. He fucked it up, there’s no point in sugarcoating it.

_I think I like you._

_I think._

_THINK._

His inner turmoil is ripping him in two because he was too chicken to kiss Harry but he has to bat it away because whatever there is to do, it can only happen tomorrow because the day pretty much ended and he can only pray Harry won’t be sad or angry at him when tomorrow comes.

He wouldn't survive if he was the one making Harry sad.

He can't sleep. He can't fucking sleep. Not when his heart is full of regret and fear that he made a mistake. He jolts up and rushes to the kitchen.

 

 

*

 

 

He’s surprised when he finds the lights already on and stops in his tracks when he spots who's inside.

Harry can't see him. He’s sat with his back to the door.

Louis is quite grateful for it because he needs a moment to gather his thoughts. He's fumbling for words or actions, more like, but his heart starts beating hundred times faster and--  

Harry, as if sensing his presence turns towards him and his body visibly tenses up. _Fuck_. _He looks sad._

“Hey,” Louis says as a greeting.

“Hi,” Harry says back.

“Can't sleep?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies curtly.

The tension in the room makes Louis swallow in discomfort, his mouth turns dry and there's a million thoughts scattered all over the place as he stumbles through his words. “Is that tea?” He asks and he’s officially deleting himself from earth. _I wanted to kiss you._ Why is it so hard to say it? _You have no idea how much._

“Yeah.” Harry answers and goes up to the sink. He pours the mug’s content completely in it.

Louis can't help but feel guilty, dismissed, as if he’s part of the liquid that's making its way down the drain.

“Too sweet,” Harry replies out of the blue and takes a few steps in the direction of the door. He's about to leave.

Louis can't have that. He can't have them part this way. It's so fucked up.

He finds himself in front of Harry with a confident step.

Harry is looking back at him, startled, only managing to avoid crashing into him by an inch. He's opening his mouth “Sor--”

Louis rests his hands on his waist.

Harry swallows his _sorry_ down. He doesn't talk but doesn't leave either.

Louis takes it as a good sign.

His hands are on fire where they connect with Harry's body. The touch is tentative, he’s testing the waters, not knowing what’s allowed and what isn’t. He’s fumbling with the material of Harry’s t-shirt, waiting for any sign of resistance and when none comes he grips onto the bottom of the T-shirt and pulls it up just enough to reveal a small patch of skin. He traces his thumb across the warm skin, barely touching him, and smiles a little bit when he feels Harry shiver at that. He draws little circles, to buy time, eyes desperately trying to decipher what exactly is on Harry's mind.

He has to stop thinking because _thinking_ is what got him here in the first place. It's his own fault why he's facing a Harry who’s now flustered, shy and scared and angry all at once after an almost perfect day.

Right.

 _Almost_.

He steps in Harry's space slowly, fingers still holding his waist and he's now so close to him that the action cannot be written off as friendly.

He's giving Harry an out he so desperately wants him to refuse.

Harry stays there, rooted to the spot.

Louis leans in slowly and closes his eyes before bumping their foreheads together. Harry's skin is warm and soft to the touch. His breath brushes Louis’ face in an unsteady rhythm, matching Louis’ erratic heartbeat for sure.

Their breaths are mingling in the air, mixing before their lips even meet and it's an unbelievable feeling having Harry this close, knowing what's to come, the anticipation is exciting but it also kills Louis slowly. Slowly as in really fucking fast.

Harry lets out a strangled noise which is exactly what Louis needs to finally tip his head to the side and close the distance. He takes Harry's top lip in his and nibbles on it. He feels Harry's entire body react, trembling to the core.

He's kissing a boy. Not just any boy. It's Harry and his lips are perfection and he can't believe it.

The kiss starts slow, mere brushes of lips and a few closed-mouth pecks but as soon as the tip of their tongues touch it turns slightly sensual. It's warm, and familiar and wonderful.

Louis’ grip tightens on Harry's waist and it's suddenly not enough and he lifts his hands to cup Harry's cheek. He smiles into the kiss and he's probably messing it up but Harry smiles back and they aren't even kissing anymore, they're giggling instead. This is the best first kiss in the history of first kisses because it's them.

Louis feels like he's going to combust into flames.

This is exactly what he thought they could be: an inexplicable amount of sizzling chemistry, firecrackers, loud fairs packed with people and a thousand lights visible from the distance, the secret park with squirrels in the middle of a busy metropolis, but they're also lazy mornings with hot cocoa poured in dotted mugs, early winter days when the tip of your nose and cheeks redden, they're red sunset over the peaceful waves, the hiking family in the mountains.

Whoa. Stop the fuck there. _You just had your first kiss with him. Maybe think about family a bit later mate. After you take two hundred steps back._

But with Harry it's so easy to believe it. Everything is so easy with him.

He has to take a deep breath at the images in front of him, willing them to go away while he rests his forehead against Harry's. He looks into those beautiful green eyes that are brighter than he's ever seen and they're a different green than they were on the picnic. He wonders how many colors they show, wonders if they change by mood, by day, by people. He wonders if he also has a shade of green that's just for him. He remembers the blue flecks and for a moment he feels unbelievably proud and smug that he gets to know it all, explore it all and catalogue them.

He opens his mouth to say something but completely forgets what it was when he feels the light brush of Harry’s warm lips against his. This time it's Harry who closes the distance by gripping the back of Louis’ neck ducking his head where he needs to be which is just close enough so their lips touch and Louis thinks he has a new favorite place in the world.

I _think_ I like you. -- Harry said but his kisses say _I’m sure_. Louis feels relieved and proud and ecstatic and excited at the same time for taking this last step, for kissing him because kissing Harry Styles is the best thing in the world.

It's exactly how he imagined and a thousand times better, it's perfect, it's agonizingly slow yet he feels like he's free falling. It has the tentativeness a first kiss deserves, the feeling of something new, something innocent, it's giving him a peaceful feeling yet there's a familiarity because even if they're free falling he _knows_ they'll land safely because it's _them._ It's sensual, arousing him, making him want to devour Harry's body, map every freckle, every imperfection, every scar. He wants to know the story of all of them and kiss them perfect.

He wants to explore every curve and bump and take his sweet time just _giving_ him, wants to get sweet raw dirty noises out of him, wants to see him on edge and witness what he's like when he's getting pleasured.

Harry is probably on the same page as him, if his wandering hands are anything to go by.

Louis is grateful for wearing baggy joggers, although he's pretty sure the high pitched noises he's making --which he'd deny if anyone asked-- aren't leaving much to the imagination.

Harry squeezes Louis’ ass and they start grinding into each other, all of their body parts meeting in a sensual dance, both of them moaning obscenely into it.

A tad too loud maybe.

Louis rests his head on Harry's shoulder and breathes him in, his scent is intoxicating. Harry hums and hugs him tighter- For a few moments all that can be heard is their laboured breathing. Their very laboured breathing. Louis puts his open palm on Harry's chest to feel his heartbeat.

He wonders if it's possible to get two new favorite places in one day but there's something about feeling and it's another thing to _know_ that Harry's just as excited and overwhelmed, a jumbled mess of emotions as him.

Louis steps out of the embrace and reaches for Harry's hands to hold them.

Harry’s bottom lip disappears as he sucks it in but it doesn't matter because his smile would still be visible from two planets away.

“Wow... That was... Wow.” Harry breathes out shaking his head.

“That good?” Louis teases and leans forward to suck Harry's bottom lip because he can.

“Shut up,” Harry mumbles and buries his head in the crook of Louis’ neck.

Louis pulls Harry’s face to his and rubs their noses together before he dives into another kiss. “Did I render you speechless, Mr Harry Styles?” He mumbles against his lips, trying to look serious. He fails miserably.

Harry grumbles and runs another hand through Louis’ hair. “I... Yeah. Completely.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks. He takes Harry's hands, presses their open palms together and starts sliding his palm down on Harry's slowly.

Harry laces their fingers and pulls him in for another kiss. “Yes.” He breathes out into Louis’ mouth.

“Do you want to sit down?” Louis asks because he quite _needs_ to sit down himself if he's being honest.

Harry shakes his head. “I have a better idea. Come with me.” He takes Louis’ hand and Louis follows him.

 

 

*

 

“You have the worst ideas.”

“What? Why?” Harry’s giggling, mouth fully open.

Louis touches his own head and rubs his hair. “I feel like something’s on my head.”

“That's just the blanket. Stop fussing around or we’ll both fall off.”

“Well I can't bloody fit in this bed meself how did you think two of us ca---” in that moment Harry kisses him.

Louis doesn't mind it one bit.  “I hate you.”

Okay maybe a little bit. An itty bitty bit.

“No you don't,” Harry replies without missing a beat.

And damn he's right.

Louis knows there's a confident cheeky smile on Harry's face even though he can't see shit because he's worried for his eyesight. “Hold that flashlight lower. I feel like I'm seeing stars.”

“No, that's just me.” Harry replies but obliges and lowers the light.

Louis rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. “Jesus Christ that was awful.”

“Okay maybe you're right.” Harry giggles and they're kissing again.

Louis leans against the wall, pulls Harry in his lap and wraps his arms around his waist. It's like the the spot is carved on Harry's waist and it's perfectly fitting Louis’ fingers.

Louis thinks he could stay like this forever.

Harry then jumps out of his hold and sits in front of him. “Now shoot,” he says, tone as serious as before Louis got his shit together and kissed him in the kitchen doorway.

Louis feels the change in the air instantly. It's more suffocating now and honestly he prefers giggling and kisses on the nose but he knows they have to talk and he knows that while he poured his heart out all he got back was a _Same_ and an _I think I like you_. He doesn't want to push for more. It's completely fine if Harry needs more time but it looks like he's ready now and Louis will make sure he'll do his damnedest to make him as comfortable as possible. He knows what Harry needs now, He knew it the moment Harry used the same words he did mere hours ago when they were outside.

“You want me to shoot you?” He asks back, making sure to follow the script, but it still comes out a bit more serious than intended.

“With questions.” Harry replies just as serious.

Louis looks at him deep in the eye and can't help but frown because Harry is so nervous. He should know Louis' wouldn't ever push him. “What do you want to tell me?”

Harry frowns at him, looking incredulous. “That's your question?”

“Yeah.” Louis replies softly. He positions himself in an angle from where he can see Harry’s face clearly under the flashlight. “I… just because I shared some… stuff with you.. it.. Harry it doesn't mean that you have to do the same, okay? I want you to feel comfortable sharing things with me but only when you're ready and not because of some stupid game. I like you Harry. A lot. And I think I made myself clear but I also want you to know that won't hold anything against you if you don't feel comfortable sharing yet.”

Harry places a finger over Louis’ lips and presses it lightly. “Shhh. I want to,” he whispers.

“In that case I'm all ears.”

“Okay.” He starts. “So… uh.. God. This is hard.”

“I'm here, okay? It's just us.” _Us._

“I know.” Harry smiles and Louis exhales deeply in relief. “So I... I said earlier that...” He starts fumbling with the flashlight making the light dance all over the blanket over their heads.

Louis reaches out and places the flashlight next to them, angling it so it provides enough light to see each other. He _needs_ to see Harry's eyes for this talk, can't not see it and lifts Harry's chin gently.

“Oh sorry--” Harry stammers.

Louis takes his hand and starts massaging him, putting pressure on the fingers one by one.

“I really like you. I really do. From the beginning. Gay. Definitely gay. But you're my first kiss. Mum knows. And I think Gemma will be the happiest if she knew we got together because I was driving her crazy and that feels really good what you're doing with my fingers. You confuse me and you're driving me crazy Louis Tomlinson. Do you have a middle name? We never talked about that. Gosh. I'm rambling. Sorry. When you touched me outside I... I didn’t know how to react properly because it felt different, it felt different than before. It was intimate, you know? But I had no idea why you touched me. ‘Cause what if you meant it as a friendly gesture, you know? What if I showed interest and revealed my feelings and you pull away and well, you even pulled away and...”

“I fucking love it when you ramble and I'm sorry for pulling away. Twice.” Louis begins rubbing circles onto the back of Harry’s hand, as if Harry was the one shaking and needing a reassuring touch and not him. “I was just trying to do the right thing. The last thing I wanted was to confuse you. I wanted to kiss you, wanted it so bad. If you had known how much,” he whispers and his lip grazes Harry's. He darts his tongue out and they meet halfway, Harry gets in his space immediately. Louis holds him at his lower back and Harry digs his nails deep into the nape of his neck before he pulls his hair.

Holy fuck. Louis never knew kissing and touching can be like... _This_.

They stop for air and Harry puts the blanket away, as it's more of an obstacle than an actual asset, it only closes them off the real world, maybe that was Harry's intention in the first place. No.longer though. They're missing out in the open.

Harry lays his head in Louis’ lap, giving the perfect angle to play with the springy bits.

Louis takes a curly strand and twirls it around his finger while leaning against the wall. “It’s so weird that you were confused you know?” He looks down and sees Harry's green eyes on him. “I mean I think a sledgehammer would be called subtle compared to what I've been doing to catch your attention, Haz.” He sniggers and combs Harry's hair from his forehead. He tries to tuck the strands behind his ear but those stubborn little curls are against the idea. Some are curling like an earring and Louis keeps stretching them behind his ears until Harry rubs his ear with the back of his hand holding Louis’ wrist down giggling.

 _“_ It tickles.”

“Soz.”

There’s a moment of silence before Harry speaks. “Does your family know about... um?” He seems to be having a hard time finding the right word.

Louis understands what he means.

“Your mum, maybe?” Harry elaborates.        

“Yeah, mum knows, actually.” Louis snickers at the memory.  “She'll be very happy for us.”

“Mine too.” Harry blushes. “That I snatched you as a boyfriend.”

 _Boyfriend_. _Me_. Louis chuckles. “Yeah, right.”

“I'm serious!” Harry looks at him with one raised eyebrow. “You think I don’t see how both boys and girls  are looking at you?”

Louis chuckles throatily. “I guess you were busy watching them checking me out instead of actually looking at me, because then you would’ve seen how I’ve been checking _you_ out the whole time.”        

“Stop, you’re making me blush.”        

“Well, don’t start what you can’t finish.” Louis chuckles before his tone turns serious. “Satisfied much?”

“No.” Harry chuckles and slots their mouth together.

 

 *

 

**Present**

 

_Louis doesn’t know how he managed to leave the office. He doesn’t even remember if he said a polite ‘goodbye’ or made a scene._

_All he knows is that he has to get out of there as fast as he could._

_It feels as if his brain short-circuited and is in need of a reboot._

_Everything is vivid around him, the flowers in the pot, the colors of the paintings hanging on the wall, the noises filtering in from outside, while he’s motionless in the middle of the corridor, numb to anything happening around him, except for his heart throbbing heavily._

_The fucking irony._

_He takes a slow step, but it feels his legs are made of stone. He barely walks and almost stumbles on the edge of the carpet, but manages to stop his fall by grabbing the cabinet against the wall. He drops his head between his stretched arms and grips the wooden surface like a lifeline. He leans down with eyes closed and starts panting in breathless urgent gasps._

_‘I wanna be a singer.’_

_He almost loses his balance when his hands instinctively reach to his heart._

_The voice isn’t cheerful and hopeful like it has been on that crappy home video. Instead it’s distorted, laughing in his face, almost mocking him, like someone has pressed ‘play’ and the familiar scene comes alive behind his closed eyelids._

_He can smell the freshly cut grass when he takes in the garden and spots the toys scattered around. He shakes with the camera as he notices the boy laughing, the sun shining on his skin, forming a halo around his head. The laugh cuts into the silence of the corridor. He’s charming and mesmerising, even at such a young age he takes his breath away._

_Louis squeezes his lids shut even more, forcing the images away, willing the video to stop and the dreadful voice to shut up._

_‘I wanna be a singer.’_

_He grips the edge firmer using all his strength to stand up straight. He feels so fucking weak, he has to summon every fiber in his trembling body to put one foot in front of the other and take a few unsteady steps forward._

_He lifts his eyes for the first time and he’s met up close with white dim framed glasses._

_Too close._

_He takes a step back and stumbles, then feels a firm grip land on his elbows, probably saving him from a nasty fall. He curls his fingers around the arm to regain his balance and rubs his eyes to clear his vision._

_A few beats later the blurry edges become sharp and he realises then the glasses belong to Melanie._

_Her lips are moving but he doesn’t hear anything only his own heart plummeting in his throat._

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

_Melanie looks at him with wide eyes laced with worry. He tries to focus but can't figure out what she wants._

_After a while he feels himself being moved. He’s realising that he’s being guided somewhere and he’s sorry because he leans almost all his weight on poor Melanie, but he doesn’t have any strength to stand, let alone walk by himself._

_His bottom comes into contact with a soft pillowed surface, it must be an armchair._

_He squints up at the still speaking Melanie who waves her arm towards a glass of water held in her other hand._

_Her hand comes close and his fingers numbly touch the wet glass. He bends forward slowly, takes a sip and even that one sip feels too much for his liking._

_Mel takes the glass from him and he leans back resting his back against the armchair, willing the dizziness to go away._

_After he feels his breathing getting back to normal, he cautiously opens his lids, not daring to move from his sitting position._

_‘I wanna be a singer.’_

_Louis looks around with wide eyes as if expecting the person to pop up in front of him. He jolts up but Melanie is holding his arms trying to push him back to the seat gently._

_“Please let me go.. I have to...” he begs weakly._

_“Louis I’m gonna get someone to take you back to the house.” He hears her voice finally._

_His next memory is waking up in their room. It’s pitch dark. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and kicks the covers off as they feel like a bloody furnace in the hottest summer day._

_He spots the calmly breathing mop of curls hugging him like a koala bear. He squeezes his eyes closed. “I love you so much,” he whispers as salty liquid stings his eye._

_In that moment Harry's face morphs into an older version of him and he looks at him, jaw clenched._

_“Not my boyfriend.”_

That's what he wakes up to.

He lets out a pitiful squeal and sits up, completely drenched in sweat. There's no Harry next to him, he's sleeping in Aiden's room these days, his new place. There’s only the nightmare remaining and his own heart jumping out of his throat. He tries to control his breathing and clear his head, maybe he can push all those painful images away.

Fuck. This isn't stopping. It's happening every night.

He feels like he lost control somewhere along the way, it's like he’s a ghost of himself. He wakes up, eats, does band stuff, spends time with mates in the house then goes to sleep until the routine starts over.

Sleep doesn’t come though, at least in his definition sleep doesn’t mean waking up every two hours from a fucking nightmare. It’s almost always the same, only some details change: sometimes it starts out of the blue, a lovely childhood memory turning into a nightmare, blurry and messy. Then there’s times when he remembers all the details, maybe a bit too intensely: he’s sitting in the same white office with arms cuffed to the armrest. The office walls turn into floor to ceiling high-definition screens and every screen has the same video on replay. He then sees himself stumbling out of the office, hands gripping the corridor’s wall so tight that he feels the plaster make its way under his nails. He looks up and spots a wide eyed Melanie at her desk. He wants to speak but there's no sound coming out of his mouth. Instead he hears the child’s words from the screen.

The same voice that’s been haunting him. Always the same voice, always the same words.

_I wanna be a singer._

That’s where his dream usually cuts off and he wakes up drenched in sweat.

It's different this time. Harry sneaked into his dream. He can't believe he's haunting him even here.

_Not my boyfriend._

_Fuck!_ He would love to say he’s been immune to the dreams, considering the amount of times he’s been suffering through them, but that would be a colossal lie.

He’s still hurt and his heart still beats with the boy in the video just as much as for the first time.

What he gets better at is compartmentalising and finding a way to make them go away. He’s really fucking good at _that._

He gets up with trembling legs and bounces off the bed. His toes sweep on the floor in swift motion in search of his slippers in the dark room. Once found, he slips his feet into them soundlessly, careful not to wake up his room mates and reaches up to the nightstand to get his phone. He uses it as a flashlight and gets out of the room.

The path is well-known, he doesn’t even need his phone to show the way, he makes it that many times at nights.

He sneaks into the kitchen and opens the cupboard trying to find some midnight snack. He grabs a bag of crisps that's big enough to last for the entire week and makes a beeline for his safe place, which is ironically a music room. The contestant house has five in total, one of them only a few steps from them.

He’s still choosing the farthest.

He doesn’t want to be found, blame him.

He’s realised that the voice disappears when he focuses very hard and this room became the perfect place. It was an added value that the room hosted a beautiful shiny piano and it offered the most beneficial solution: a place to play the piano at and a place to escape to when he wants to stop the fake smiles and wants to allow himself to _feel_.

Feelings. He has plenty of those.

In fact when he’s by himself all he’s left with are _feelings_. He hides them from his band mates, or at least tries to, not sure how successful he is at that, as Liam’s already on his case. He just doesn’t want his fuckups to affect them and whenever he’s out of this room he puts on that well-practiced smile and pretends.

If anyone has known him well enough, the increasing amount of his teasing and bickering to overcompensate, would be enough of an indication that contrary to what he’s been repeating to the endless questions, he’s anything but okay.

In fact he’s never felt this helpless in his eighteen years.

Fortunately the two people who know him the best aren’t there. Correction: his mum isn’t there and he avoids the other person like the plague.

He deliberately surrounds himself by anyone and everyone who barely _know_ him and spends an awful lot of time with them just to forget about the very reason of his heartbreak.

Harry.

It was always a moth to its flame with him. Harry the boy who shines with the brightness of a thousand stars and Louis who fell for him helplessly from the very moment he saw him standing in line.

He still remembers entering the toilet months ago and stopping in the doorway weighing up if it’s worth it. If it was worth risking heartbreak because he _knew_ Harry was a crash and burn kind of boy and no matter how long he could have him, he was sure in the end he'd leave a dent in his heart. But that didn't matter. He jumped into it head first and the whirlwind of emotions surging through him so early in the process only cemented his initial feeling that whenever this ends, it’s going to be impossible to get out unscathed.

He knew it was only a matter of time for it to happen and as time passed it became harder and harder to be in Harry’s presence, no matter how hard he tried.

It hurt too much to be in the same room as him - for obvious reasons - but also for practical reasons because he was sure Harry would call him out on his transparent game of pretend, so he decided that the best way was to avoid him, pain and heartbreak aside.

The very heartbreak he tries so badly to hide from people.

Harry didn’t do anything wrong; he just wanted to sing and Louis became an obstacle but it’s all fair game because he’s so bloody talented and so charismatic. It was fate that he’d grow into this amazing singer he is today. Hell, even Louis knew when he heard him for the first time that it would only be a matter of time and he’d become a huge star.

They’re only in a singing competition, very far from sold out arenas, still, but it’s all about perspective because here in the competition they’re at arm’s length from sold out arenas compared to singing into hairbrushes in the shower at home.

He drops down on the piano bench, sweeps his fingers lightly through the keys and basks in the familiar feeling that surges in him.

This very piano has saved him so many times from going out of his mind, which is weird because he was never one to be attached to objects before. He just saw it and took a liking to playing on it again.

He scoffs at the thought of the others not knowing he played it.

Only Harry knew. He told him when they had picnic.

That boy knew him inside and out.

_“Okay. Instruments,” Harry started and looked at Louis, sadness long gone, the light returned to his mesmerising green eyes._

_Louis cleared his throat and picked up a blade of grass while dropped his head down. He felt the afternoon sun burn his neck. They've been out for so long but he still wouldn't trade it for anything, risking sunburn and all. “I...” he started. “I always had this dream of playing the piano,” he admitted yet another secret to him._

_Harry turned his head towards him. “Really?” he asked cheerfully._

_Louis could only nod, blushing. “Yeah.”_

_“I’ll be there,” Harry stated and rested his hand on Louis’ for a moment._

_It was something Louis never understood. Harry had this endless faith in him. He didn't even wonder if Louis’ dream would be impossible, he simply stated he'd be there, as if Louis fulfilling his dream was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes literally lit up when Louis admitted to him that he had a few videos recorded and uploaded on Youtube, even though he felt self-conscious._

And dammit.

He’s thinking about him again.

The shitty thing about love and spending an awful lot of time in each other’s pockets is that you make a shit ton of memories and attach those memories to objects, music, colors, voices and moods.

Every single corner of the house reminds him of Harry or subsequently of the memories he made with him.

Any guesses why he spends most of his time in this very music room?  

He can’t allow himself to remember when all that waits is heartbreak.

_I wanna be a singer._

No, not again. Please. Not again.

He lifts his hands and covers his ears forcefully but the voice is still there and it _hurts_. It hurts so fucking much that he wants to crawl out of his skin.

He forces his eyes shut and starts to quietly sing the first song that comes to mind, which is what he heard last: Grace Kelly by Mika.

Thanks Niall.

It's only a whisper, he isn't even singing anymore, just chanting it like a prayer, grasping it like a lifeline as if it saved him, as if a stupid song by Mika would be stronger than the voices that haunted him even in his sleep.

It doesn’t work.

All he hears is _I wanna be a singer._

He jolts upright in the piano seat as if on fire and holds his head.

Why is it not working?

Singing always worked.

He forces his fingers to do something. _Anything._

He finds himself playing the melody of Hallelujah, tries to sing it, desperately, but all that comes out is a choked up sob, the sound of the voice drowning out everything.

_Hiiii. I’m Harry Styles and I want to be a singer. This is my room. Come ins----._

Louis shuts the piano.

He doesn't succeed at first as his fingers slide down on the shiny surface. He hits it the second time and it closes loudly.

The voice is gone, ironically now.

All that can be heard is the sound of a boy’s shattering heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well....
> 
> Were you surprised? Comment to share your feelings. I'm eager to hear your thoughts.
> 
> See you next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RIP Robin.

Louis crosses the threshold of the music room which lets out a loud creak, of course it does. He flits his eyes around frantically and only dares to release a loud sigh when he's absolutely sure he hasn't been noticed.

He barely has the strength to close the door before he leans against it and lets out a shaky breath.

_Safe._

It isn’t like there are many things keeping him safe lately. There are less and less people remaining in the house after each elimination which leaves him with mixed feelings. On one hand it's good because it doubles the chances of finding good hiding places.

On the other hand his escapades are also more likely to be noticed and if that happens people are going to confront him. They're going to ask all kinds of questions, _valid_ questions and they're going to expect answers.

He doesn't know if he's ever going to be ready for that.

For now, he's not going to wrack his brain about it, he's not going to let the negative energies in. Not when he's _safe_ and can  finally feel the air making its way through his lungs. He really fucking missed that.

_Not my boyfriend._

It feels like each word cuts a new bruise on his heart.

He hugs himself, pretty sure he should be numb to the pain by now but it still hurts like the dickens.

 _Not my boyfriend_.

He shouldn't be thinking about him again. Fuck. He shouldn't spare a thought for him, he has better things to do, like showing up at the rehearsal to which--- Fuck! He's already running late.

 

*

 

“Sorry,” he breathes out panting and steps through the doorway.

“It's okay. We're still waiting for Harry,” Savan replies with a frown etched between his brows. He tries to put two and two together, Louis suspects, but boy, _oh boy_ is he wrong. It would be the most ridiculous assumption that his late arrival has _anything_ to do with Harry’s. Thankfully, Savan doesn’t vocalise his _very very wrong_ assumption and Louis is smart enough to know he has to sit his arse down faster than light, before giving him the chance to do so.

The door opens a beat later.

“Sorry,” Harry calls and scurries towards them but stops in the middle of the room.

Louis shuts his lids, ready for Savan's comments on the weirdly coinciding timing of their entrance. He doesn't comment. Thank god. Louis opens his eyes again, and follows Harry's gaze to the chair next to him.

And then he understands.

There's only one seat left. Next to _him._

It seems he and Harry both realise it at the same time because their eyes lock. It burns. Nothing happens for a beat.

Savan clears his throat which seems to snap them out of their reverie.

Harry walks towards Savan and stands next to him.

“What's for today? He asks breaking the silence but the tension -if possible- only doubles. No one dares to utter a word, the room turns so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Harry quickly clears his throat and starts fidgeting until he leans against the wall and stays next to Savan. For the entire two hours of their rehearsal. Louis rolls his eyes. So fucking stubborn. Maybe it's for the better.

Louis is the last one to stay, waiting for the room to clear out. He closes his eyes and tips his head against his chair.

“Are you okay Louis?” He hasn't calculated with a worried Zayn.

Why is everyone constantly asking if he's okay? He can only nod because they both know he’s not okay. So a non-verbal yes isn’t exactly lying, per se.

Instead of turning away and minding his own business Zayn becomes overly concerned and it’s making Louis’ skin itch. He knows Zayn only wants to help but he can’t deal with the questioning looks. He just can't.

It's time for that fake smile then. “Sure Zaynie.”

 

*

 

“Wait!” That's Niall's voice from behind the almost closed door.

“Hey, Nialler, mind if I come in?” Louis asks as he opens the door of their room slowly, trying not to hit Niall in the process. “You're not doing some private business are ya?” he laughs only daring to pop his head in, afraid he'd catch him doing exactly that.

Niall doesn’t answer so he feels encouraged to open the door wider.

The laugh dies on his lips when he spots Harry sitting next to Niall.

“Nothing mate, just---” Niall gestures as if his movements should make it all clear.

Movements or not, Louis immediately knows something isn't right. Harry looks paler than usual and his entire forehead is shiny, as if beads of sweat have rolled down on it.

“What's wrong?” he asks panicked and finds himself cutting the distance with every word. Water. He looks at the nightstand then at Harry's hands. Empty hands. Water. Harry always needs some water. He rushes to the bathroom and fills a glass with it, spilling half of it on the tiles. He'll clean it up later but it doesn't matter right now because Harry isn't feeling okay and well... _priorities._

He places the glass on the nightstand and squats down in front of Harry. “Do you have fever?” He lifts his hand to check on that temperature when he hears him cough. It's just a clearing of a throat but it doesn't sound good _._ Maybe it's more than nerves.

“Can you leave us alone, please?” Harry’s voice is so raspy that Louis’ pretty sure he's down with something. Maybe a flu or some infection. Judging by his voice he definitely has a sore throat. Where is that packet of Hall’s? It should be somewhere in the green backpack. Mum left a few supplies in it last week, hopefully some throat lozenge as well.

“Louis.” It's Harry again and Louis wants to say _jeez, your voice is completely wrecked._ _What hurts?_ but he gets an answer before uttering it. “Stop it.”

Oh.

O-oh.

He stands up faster than a bullet and stalls there like a fucking moron scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He’s never felt more out of place. So much for safe fucking places in this house.

His eyes zoom in on Niall’s hands as they're running comforting circles on Harry's back. _It used to be mine. The hand on your back._ He has to summon all the energy left in him to control himself and not to stomp on the ground like a little kid. _It used to be me. Who you ran to._

Not anymore. _Can you leave us alone, please?_

_Louis. Stop it._

It rips his heart in two. He can’t take it. He can’t fucking take it. He already has too many demons to fight. He most definitely doesn’t need more thank you very much. It’s like there’s never silence because in those rare moments when everyone stops talking, Harry’s cheery voice plays and puts him back in place. Every single _time._

 _‘Hi I’m Harry Styles and I want to be a singer._ ’

He just wants some quiet. He wants the voices to stop talking. Why is it too much to ask for?

He gets the fuck out of there.

Where is Liam when he needs him? He opens every door that exists in the fucking house and of course it's just his luck that Liam is in the last one.

“He hates me.” Okay for some people maybe a _hello_ would work better but it's them and Harry just asked him to leave him the fuck alone so there's no time for hellos.

Liam does a spin similar to what ballet dancers do. Since when do they have a spin in their routine? “Talk to him.”

He scoffs. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“Why?” Liam asks, which is a valid point from him. He normally doesn't go this bold.

 _Why?_ If only he could tell him what’s going on. If only he could just let it all out and break down in front of him. If only he could tell him what happened. He won't. He can't. “Because he wants answers, answers that I can’t give him.”

Liam walks to the radio and stops the music. “Answers you're not giving me either.” He sighs, seemingly torn.

“You're not even asking.” It's lame, Louis knows.

Liam sits down and leans his back against the wall. “It’s not like I’d get an answer.” Touché. He's smarter than he lets on.

Louis drops himself next to him. “I wanna go home,” he whispers.

“What? Louis, you can't just leave!”

“I can. I can talk to Melanie. There's this reason _family emergency,_ that’s why Zayn was allowed to leave. I think they'd be okay if I went home for a few days,” he whispers in a choked off voice, a single teardrop finds its way and dribbles down his face. Goddamnit he doesn't want to cry.

“Wait, you're serious about this? But what would it solve?”

“I don't know Liam but I can't-- I can't stay this close to him all the time,” he stammers as more hot tears prickle the corners of his eyes. “He flat out refused my help. It was--- how much do you have to hate someone that you even refuse a glass of water when you're sick.”

“He doesn't hate you. He's just angry.”

“I'm not so sure of that.”

“He doesn’t hate you. Hey.”

The next thing he knows is he's being hugged. It's good, warm, comfortable. _Different_ . He can't think of _that_ . He just can't think of _Harry_ all the fucking time. He can't compare people and feelings to Harry because it isn't fair to the others.

He clears his mind by shaking his head. He's thankful for Liam's tightening hold and allows his body to go pliant against his. So pliant that he has to grab Liam’s shoulders to keep himself up. It would be probably time to thank Liam somehow, he wants him to know how grateful he is for having him even though this bonding happened when he was at his lowest.

Maybe, that’s their path: to bond at the saddest time with the only person he never managed to otherwise.

As if reading his thoughts Liam hugs him tighter. There's a 'thank you’ forming on Louis’ tongue and he's about to vocalise it when he feels Liam’s body freeze.

He tips his head in the direction he assumes Liam is looking at.

Harry's at the door.

Louis feels like a slap would hurt less than seeing him after he sent him  away.

God, when will these encounters hurt less? And why did he even come back? He was very adamant when it came to refusing his help, or a fucking glass of water. Or did he look for Liam?

What does he want now?

He looks a bit better now, at least his cheeks are a lot pinker and his eyes are more focused, even though his pupils are comically wide and his lips are parted in shock as he just stands there, entire body seemingly rooted to the floor.

Louis gulps because that face doesn't hold any snark remark, nothing what he's used to lately. No, that face makes him terrified.

_Maybe he didn’t hear me._

Maybe he just wanted to talk to Liam and didn't count on _him_ being here and that's what made him freeze on the spot. Maybe. Or maybe it was finding them in a tight hug. Or maybe his face is like that because he thinks he caught them? Well, that needs to be rectified, stat.

There's nothing to be jealous about and certainly nothing happened that would make him freeze.

Louis mentally kicks himself on the shin. Harry's smarter than that, so it comes down to option one.

He's praying until his last breath that Harry didn’t hear a fucking thing he's just said.

“You-- you want to leave?” Harry whispers as if he can't believe what he heard, like uttering the words out loud would make it all real.

 _So he heard it._ Louis buries his face in his hands and drops his head on Liam’s shoulder. _Of course he did._ “Great,” he mumbles into Liam’s t-shirt, his _damp_ shirt. Right. He only then remembers that he still has tears on his face but it’s too late to hide them now that everyone saw them. Now that Harry saw them.

Harry clears his throat and Louis lifts his head at that. There's a beat between them when they simply stare at each other. They hold each other’s gazes breathlessly as if it was a competition and the first one to blink would lose and Louis has no idea what else he can possibly lose after he’s lost everything but the moment feels too big and he doesn’t want to lose _that_.

He wants to win that one fucking thing, and keeps looking at Harry firmly, willing him to be the first one to look away.

Harry eventually casts his gaze at the floor and by doing so his curls immediately drop into his eyes.

Louis wants to touch them, to comb them away but he won’t. He can't be that weak. He’s thanking all the powers above that Harry looked away because he was just about to chicken out, too weak to stand the scrutiny of those piercing green eyes.

He should feel good because he won this match and he’s always been a sore loser. Not to mention that it’s the first fucking thing he’s won in a week but there's no relief lifting off his shoulders. There's no satisfaction flooding him. He feels empty, as if his heart got borrowed by someone else who forgot to return it in time and now he has to learn to live without it.

He feels Liam shiver and only then remembers that they're still hugging.

He’s about to step away from their embrace before Harry misinterprets it, but Liam pulls away first.

This madness has to end.

Now that he's free he walks towards Harry with determined steps.

Harry swallows visibly, seemingly nervous, not knowing what will happen.

Fuck, even Louis doesn’t know what will happen. All he knows is that Harry’s presence is too much.  Too soon.

When he reaches the door he grabs the door handle. He catches the very moment the alarm settles in Harry’s eyes as he slowly swings the door shut and Harry’s face disappears completely.

 

*

 

Harry glances up at the clock of the music room again but it still shows the same time as it did twenty seconds ago.

It’s two minutes to nine and Louis still hasn’t arrived to their morning rehearsal.

He takes a deep breath trying to comfort himself with the thought that Louis is always late and he’ll probably be coming in a few minutes.

After those extra few minutes pass with no Louis in sight, Harry feels even more restless and starts tapping his left foot against the leg of his chair waiting for Louis’ entrance.

He looks around and notices that no one is looking for Louis…- why is no one worried? Why is no one pacing around? And most of all where is he?

Where the _fuck_ is he?

Savan looks at his watch as well and stands up quickly, gunning towards the door.

“Okay let’s start,” he says on his way.

Before Harry knows it, he’s in front of him blocking him from closing the door and from starting their rehearsal. “No. Louis is not here yet,” he challenges. His breathing turns crazy.

Savan looks at him with an unreadable expression and there's an uncomfortable cough from behind him.

When Harry steps away he’s met with Liam’s gaze and if he didn’t know better he would think he looks guilty. But that wouldn't make sense because there's nothing to feel guilty about, is there?

Right?

A comforting hand lands on his shoulder and he peeks behind himself to identify whose hand it is.

_Savan._

“Harry, he’s...” he starts and Harry feels his heart jump up his throat but before Savan goes on he stops and turns to face the other boys. “You didn’t tell him?”

The boys drop their heads and start to inspect the floor. What the--

“Tell me what?” He growls, getting more and more irritated by the moment. “Will somebody bloody tell me where he is?”

Liam clears his throat again. “He’s not coming.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean he’s not coming?” Harry frowns in confusion.

 _I want to go home._ So he really did. It wasn't just some weak moment. Did he really give his dream up? Give everything up? This easily? Without putting up a fight?

This has to be a misunderstanding.

This is so important for Louis, he won't just leave. He's just late. He'll walk through that door any minute.

Harry keeps peering towards the entrance, feeling ready to stop this stupid joke but no one comes in.

He turns back to the boys, and catches Savan looking at the others with disapproval then jerks his head at his bandmates. “What are you not telling me?” He demands examining them closely but they all drop their gaze, unable to keep eye contact. In shame? Guilt?

If he had it in himself he would laugh his ass off because really? Did he really find himself in a room full of people who keep secrets from him _again_? Why the fuck did the universe play these sick jokes at his expense?

“What the fuck are you not telling me?”

“He went home.”        

“Home...” Harry croaks. “Why did he-- when... When is he coming back?”

“We don’t know,” Liam mumbles and wow. Harry would be lying if his heart didn’t stop at the mere thought of never crossing paths with Louis again. He stares at Liam, willing him to continue but he doesn’t utter a single word.

“What do you mean you don't know? You are his new fucking bff and you have no fucking idea when he’s coming back? How can you just sit around and be this calm?”

“We don't know if he’s coming back Harry,” Niall joins the conversation.

“Why the fuck did you let him leave in the first place? This is his fucking dream!”

“Harry he’s… he left because he...”

“Couldn't bear the thought of being in the same band as me? Couldn’t hate me less and stay?” He grits out and looks at the ceiling, frantically blinking to get his fucking tears back where they belonged because he doesn’t need anyone to see him like that.

The others start fumbling and look at Savan silently asking him to help but he keeps regarding them with disapproval.

Liam though, his eyes are huge as a saucer and he shifts in his seat as if wanting to be anywhere but there.

Welcome to the club.

 

*

 

The rehearsal is a mess, of course.

He barrels to his room the very moment Savan calls it a wrap.

There's a knock on the door and he hopes it stops but the person is insistent and knocks louder.

He stands up reluctantly and opens it. _What if it's_ \--

It's Niall. Harry doesn't know if he should feel relieved or sad. The only thing he knows is that Niall is the only person he wants to see right now. Besides Louis, of course but he can't think about him. He can't always think about _him_.

Niall enters the bedroom and settles down next to him. They're both sitting in silence and even though it feels heavy, Harry is still grateful for it. There's not much to talk about, really. What could they possibly discuss? Louis went home and God knows if he's coming back.

Harry's so clueless, he's so in the dark when it comes to what's going on. “What's happening?” he asks, not caring that the desperation and the dread is tangible in his voice.

Niall looks at him in the eye. “I don't know, Harry.”

Harry wants to ask if him is sure, if he knows more and he's not telling him because Louis asked him to. He keeps his gaze on him. He looks sincere. “What will happen now?” With the band. Me. _Us_.

“I don't know,” Niall whispers.

They sit in silence, but it feels loud like a busy airport. Harry has so many thoughts circulating in his head that he's afraid his brain is going to explode if he did more thinking.

The silence is broken by Niall. “Do you know what helps me when I’m down?” He doesn’t wait for Harry’s answer. “I write.”

“What do you write?”

“Food poems. Do you want to see them?”

Before Harry has a chance to ask what a food poem is - is it a poem about food, or a poem dedicated to food or maybe it means something completely different? - Niall’s phone is already pushed in his hand.

Niall snuggles up next to him and Harry can’t help but smile. Even if only a little.

“So. Here’s my latest.” Niall says, voice filled with pride.

 

 

 

> _I have eaten_
> 
> _the plums_
> 
> _that were in_
> 
> _the icebox_
> 
> _and which_
> 
> _you were probably_
> 
> _saving_
> 
> _for breakfast_
> 
> _Forgive me_
> 
> _they were delicious_
> 
> _so sweet_
> 
> _and so cold_

Harry can’t help but laugh. This is so Niall.

Niall grins as well, proud of his masterpiece. “Do you want to see another one?!”

Before he can search for his other poem a beep can be heard and the screen displays a message. Harry doesn’t want to pry, he really doesn’t, but the notification is right in front of him. So he looks at it.

_“It’s too much, I can’t handle it.”_

_Louis_.

He reads it again.

_“It’s too much, I can’t handle it.”_

Niall snatches the phone from him but it's too late.

He saw it already and those words are now carved in his head right next to _Not my boyfriend._

He can barely hear Niall clear his throat.

Niall offers a hand to pull him up but he doesn't even move. _Can't handle what?_

“You know what, erm-- let's go for a walk. Or something.”

_What is it you can't handle?_

What if it isn't a _what_ but a _who_.

 _He loves you, you know_. Jay’s voice plays in his head.

_It’s too much, I can’t handle it._

And it doesn't take much to finally understand he lost Louis.

He really lost him.

 

His entire day is fucked from then on.

 _Day,_ he said? _Everything_ is.

He leaves Niall with the most transparent excuse, but he doesn't care and thankfully Niall doesn't call him out on it.

He walks around aimlessly, not wanting to accept that this was _it_ , that this is how they end.

His sleep schedule gets fucked even more. His concentration is worse than the one of a fish.

Savan calls him aside the next day and asks him if he's okay which no?! Why would he? He literally has no idea if Louis will come back.

_How on earth can I be okay?_

He wants to talk to Louis because he deserves an explanation, a goodbye, something. He hovers over his number in the contact list but he's a coward, too afraid of what Louis might say or worse, won't take his call, so he chickens out.

He's angry at himself for not calling him, angry for falling so hard, for letting Louis grow roots so deep in his life that even now when he has a chance to make it big he doesn't want to do it, not really, not anymore. The priorities changed. Maybe he'll wake up tomorrow completely motivated to move on and focus on the competition instead of his love life, but he can't find a single reason to be happy at the moment.

He doesn't want to sing.

His only luck is the upcoming one week break in two days. He’ll go home. Home which isn't tainted by memories, home that wasn't ever visited by Louis. He doesn't know if he should cry or feel relieved.

 

Once he's home he realises he doesn't need a person to visit a place physically, they can still _be_ there. He feels and hears Louis’ presence everywhere. In every thought, every breath, every plan, every conversation, whenever the band is brought up, he's there haunting Harry.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His mum asks and that's all it takes for him to drop his spoon and breaks down in front of her.

He climbs in her lap and she holds him in a tight, the same way she did when he was a kid and someone hurt him. She doesn't say it's going to be okay, she doesn't even ask again what the problem is. Just waits for Harry to come to her, like she always does.

“I t-think it's ov-over,” Harry sobs out.

“Shhh,” Anne tries to calm him, her voice is so soft, so caring, it's like a lullaby sending him to the softest clouds to sleep.

She doesn't ask what Harry means, what is over. She knows the band is far from over because they're winning every show by a mile. Also, Louis didn't come with him even though they planned to come together, so it doesn’t take long for his mum to figure out.

“Why do you think that?” She asks after a long silence, fingers stuck in Harry's curls.

“Just... he's… I just k-know,” Harry hiccups. “He m-made it per-fectly clear.”

Her hand stops in his hair, seemingly thinking about what to say. “Sorry. So sorry,” she mumbles before pecking Harry's head.

Harry just nods in her sweater. He's sorry as well.

Later, he goes upstairs to his childhood room that doesn't really feel like his anymore because he hasn't slept there for weeks.

Some things haven’t changed and he finds his CD’s easily, exactly where he left them. He puts the Westlife CD on and lays on his back watching the ceiling, hands resting above his head.

He’s surrounded by dreams, memories, moments that were big enough to get a pin on his board. Everything he ever wanted is pinned, and he’s achieved so much already. He used to think as a kid that's all it takes, just making a career out of music and he'll be happy-- and now… Now he gets to sing every day. In a national competition. On TV.

Still, he never felt this sad.

When the first notes of _Fool again_ play, he walks up to the board of photos and stands in front of it.

 _Can't believe that I'm the fool again_.

He brushes his thumb over one. Silly, who would even pin a picture taken in the toilet.

 _I thought this love would never end_.

He should just unpin it and turn it over. Tear it into pieces and throw it in the bin. Or better, tear it, and throw it in the trash outside so he can't change his mind and glue it together at night.

_How was I to know?_

Minutes, maybe hours pass and he's still standing there.

He wipes a tear with a trembling finger, pins the picture back on the board where it belongs and goes to bed.

Sleep doesn't come. Of fucking course.

_You never told me._

 

*

 

They're back in The X Factor house with the same amount of contestants as before. The mini break hasn't changed anything.

He doesn't really know what he expected but definitely not this. _Not this._ He takes another glance at Louis’ made bed, and scoffs, because the tidiness is enough of a sign to know that Louis hasn’t been anywhere close to their room.

He looks at the flowery duvet they shared every time he sneaked into Louis’ bed. The memories are hitting him hard like a hurricane and it feels so real that for a moment he's convinced he’lll wake up from this nightmare and Louis will be here.

He shakes his head, he can’t think of that. He's not here. Louis is _not_ here.

“Harry.”

He hears his name called and turns around, finding Niall in front of him. “Yeah?”

“Will you come to party with us? We're celebrating our last free night.”

 _Nothing to celebrate,_ he wants to say but Niall looks so kind and so inviting, his eyes are practically begging him to come and well. Live. Something he hasn't done in a while. “Yeah. Sure.”

Maybe it'll help.

Maybe it'll do good to him.

 

*

 

They go to a club near downtown. It's packed and loud. The music is thumping and the bass is pulsating through the walls so aggressively that he’s afraid it’ll push him out of the building, There are lights everywhere. And people. Lots of people. All in one mass on the dance floor.

He feels suffocated.

He goes to find the bar which for a crowded place as this one seems to be rather abandoned. He sits up on the stool which is high enough that his legs are dangling and lays his eyes on the crowd.

“I'm gonna have to charge you for occupying the seat.”

The voice scares the shit out of him. He turns around so fast he almost falls down. “What?”

“I said I'm gonna have to charge you unless you order.” The guy who stands behind the bar says, voice teasing, there's no trace of scolding in it. He can't be much older than him.

“Er. Sorry. A mojito. Virgin,” he calls it as good as any and turns back at the crowd.

“Are you?”

He barely hears it, his gaze is focused on the dancing mass. “Huh?” He looks up again, right in time to spot the guy’s amused expression.

“I asked… nevermind. Who's the girl?”

“Wha… I… he's not... I mean he's--”

“So it’s a boy.”

Harry’s eyes widen. Oops. He nods silently. _Not just any boy_.

“Drink this.”

 _He's Louis._ “What?”

“You have to work on the talking.” The guy looks at him pointedly and slides the glass to him. “Name?”

“Lou-- Er, Harry.”

“You have to work on that, Lou-er-Harry.”

“Oh.” He swallows thickly when he understands the implication. “I wasn't--”

“I know. Still. Drink it.”

He takes the glass and sniffles it. Alcohol. So much for the virgin he asked for. He normally hates it and refuses to drink anything stronger than beer but this time.. this time he doesn't mind it one bit.

“It's on the house.”

“Thanks.” He lifts his eyes when he feels the guy’s gaze on him, burning him. He turns away and angles his body towards the people dancing again.

“And it isn't virgin if you were wondering.”

Harry whips his head around and looks at him stunned, not knowing what to say. “No, thanks,” he ends up saying, almost rolling his eyes and bolts up from his seat to join the lads in their booth.

 

“Harry.” Contrary to the bartender, Liam’s voice very unsubtly feels like a demand, but it’s in vain, he doesn't drink it, he's too law abiding for that. So he leaves it on the table, untouched.

They only stay an hour and he's pretty sure his own sour expression is part of the reasons why they leave. They refuse to take a cab and walk back instead. The night air feels good, he uses it to clear his head and to make his mind up.

He will call Louis. Tomorrow.

For now, he has to make it through this one night, which would be a lot easier if he wasn’t glancing towards Louis’ bed constantly.

Four days.

Is that even allowed to be away for that long? How will they perform? Was there ever a contestant away for this long? What if he's not allowed to come back?

He closes his eyes at these thoughts, willing sleep to come.

It doesn't. He tosses around thinking of the worst. He can't stay in the room, he needs to _move_.

He throws the cover off and sits up in his bed. He blindly reaches for his phone under the pillow and sees it’s nearly 3 AM. He sighs and buries his hand in his face. He can't sleep. Whenever he closes his eyes he sees Louis, hears his voice and it feels so real, as if he never left.

He tiptoes to the kitchen and notices that the lights are already on. He’s still yawning and wiping his eyes when he spots a familiar backpack on the counter.

His heartbeat picks up instantly.

A second later Louis emerges from behind the open door of the fridge. Louis freezes once he spots him, the bottle in his hand stops hanging mid air as he holds Harry’s gaze. His previously smooth features turn rigid and alarmed.

Harry wants to ask him so many things. _Where were you? Did you really go home?_ _Did you sleep at night? Or did you lie awake, like me? Did you think about the times when everything was great between us? Did you even think about me? Did you miss me? Did they feed you well?_

_Did they love you as much as I do?_

He shakes his head trying to send these questions back deep down and taking two hundred fucking steps back because he's not in the position of asking questions. Not anymore. He clears his throat. “I didn’t know you’d be back.”

Louis’ adam’s apple bobs visibly. “Yeah, I...” He keeps one beer in his hand and kicks the door of the fridge shut with his foot. “Just arrived.” He opens the cabinet, takes a glass out and pours some beer in it.        

Harry watches the foam slowly disappear from the yellow liquid. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you decided to come back.” He didn’t actually want to say this out loud but his brain to mouth filter was never working anyway.

Louis turns away and starts fidgeting with something on the counter. He stays silent.

Harry needs to know so he asks, regardless of the answer. “You’re back aren't you?”

Louis nods and Harry feels so much relief that he has to lean against the counter and hold it with a firm grip because otherwise he would just say fuck it and would walk up to Louis for a tight hug.

He doesn't do that, he finds himself rambling instead. “And I’m… I'm glad you worked out whatever it was that… that bothered you. This dream doesn't deserve to be given up and whatever happened to us it’s---” God this is hard, Harry thinks. He clears his throat. “The band should matter more.”

Louis turns around and just stares at him, face unreadable.

Harry continues now that he has the chance to speak. “You would hate yourself if you looked back ten years from now, you know?"

Louis stops drinking, Harry sees and he goes on, taking the silence as approval. “Some stupid crush that lasted for a few months shouldn't be the end of your career.”

There's a loud crash, the sound of glass meeting the kitchen tiles. Harry looks at the million shiny wet pieces nearing his feet, then at Louis’ hand which is still outstretched, grasping air.

There's a small puddle forming on the floor quickly reaching Louis’ shoes, he doesn’t move.

Harry snaps out of it and pads to the counter and snatches the roll of paper towels from there. He throws a bunch of paper on the puddle while Louis just... stands there.

Unmoving.

He catches Harry’s gaze and suddenly his features become collected, all emotion draining from his face. He shakes his head  and strolls towards the table.

“Thanks, I’ve gotta go to… sleep.” He slings his bag over his shoulder and stumbles through the kitchen, leaving Harry alone.

“Yeah. Night.” Harry mumbles robotically and looks at Louis’ retreating body. He keeps staring at the direction Louis left as if willing him to come back but he doesn’t.

Harry’s wishing he could wipe his feelings like he wipes the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationships aren't easy. Especially when they're 16 and 18 years old. I'm sending you a hug and all my love <3<3  
> Please leave a comment if you have any thoughts. I really appreciate the random adshakfakjfksajf ones as well. :) Or the ones where you want to murder me, hug me, love me, etc etc. :)
> 
> The food poem is: This is Just to Say written by William Carlos Williams
> 
> See you next Friday! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8/13.. they talk.

“You're all standing like a tree in that doorway. What are you waiting for?” Savan laughs while motioning to the large red sofa facing his desk. “Come on inside. Sit right there, I don't bite.”

Zayn, Liam, Niall and Harry all enter the music room slowly and plop down on the sofa with a light thud.

Louis is the last one to step in the room, following close behind.

 _Try to be invisible._ It’s been his motto since he came back. _Be the last one to arrive but not too late because that would make an entrance._ That too. _Hands in your pockets._ To avoid the constant fidgeting and give himself away. _Keep your comments to yourself._ They only bring attention and attention is the last thing he wants because it brings looks and looks bring questions and questions bring panic. Panic brings--- well...

 _Smile when required, nod when the others do._ _Sit close but not too close._ _Avoid Harry at all costs._

Check.

Check.

Check.

He settles just to the side of the room, close to the sofa but not too close and looks at the musicians’ frames against the wall. _Never look bored. People notice and come to you. To. Ask. Questions._ He already knows what lies down that road.

He has to lean closer so he can read the small text below the pictures, although he's recited it so many times he knows it by heart already.

_Richard Starkey, known professionally as Ringo Starr._

He gets startled by the roar of Niall’s laughter and almost hits his head against the glass. He looks behind himself to check what’s happening. Harry’s in the middle of telling a joke. He hasn't even gotten close to the 'fun' part he's already losing it. He always told jokes like this and Louis always loved that he was incapable of doing it without laughing for an extra minute. In fact, he usually took so much time that people got bored of waiting. Louis never did. He waited patiently even if it was the worst joke on the planet; and sometimes it was. But it was all worth it because he could see Harry smile.

Like now.

He lingers his eye on him for a moment too long. He knows very well he's on borrowed time here but still allows five seconds to himself.

When those five seconds are up he turns back and observes the frame again. _Never linger._ People mistake it with wanting to talk.

_When the Beatles were formed in 1960, Starr was a member of another Liverpool group, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes._

“A giraffe jam!” Harry yells and silence lingers in the room for a moment.

_After achieving moderate success with that band in the UK and Hamburg, he quit the Hurricanes._

An unusually high-pitched laugh breaks the silence and Louis almost chokes on his own saliva when he hears it. His favorite laugh. The one where the corners of Harry's eyes get all crinkly and turn to narrow slits and his mouth is open so big he could swallow an entire horse.

He missed that smile. He has no idea how the fuck he was able to function these days without it. He can never get bored of hearing it. He knows _everything_ about that smile. He _saw_ it a hundred times. He _put_ that smile on his face a hundred times. He doesn't have to look to see this is what's happening. He just _knows._

_He joined the Beatles in August 1962, replacing Pete Best._

“Ready?” Savan asks and they all mumble something. He starts his dramatic introduction of their first song.

One last look at Ringo and Louis takes his place behind the sofa. For a moment he thinks about sitting next to the boys or on the floor so he's not too isolated from them, but sitting isn't an option, he's too restless for that. One of the side-effects when he's in the same room as Harry.

Oh the irony.

One single touch from him used to calm him down better than any medicine. Now one single look at him feels like a hit in the stomach. _Stop._

_He narrated the first two series of the television programme Thomas & Friends and portrayed "Mr Conductor". _

He clutches the back of the sofa and glances down and _fuck._

He hasn't even realised that he's been standing right behind Harry. Now that he knows, it feels like his mere presence is taunting him.

He digs his fingers into the sofa so hard that the cheap textile finds a way under his fingernails.

_In 1953, he contracted tuberculosis and was admitted to a sanatorium, where he remained for two years._

It would be so easy to reach out and comb through his soft hair. Like he used to. He sets his jaw and shakes his head, banishing the images to the back of his head. He doesn’t _need_ to see a happy Louis and a happy Harry, thank you very much. Even if the memory feels so real that he can still hear Harry's proud laugh when he was finally able to teach him how to shoot the flower head of the English Plantain without breaking it. He can still feel the light breeze that picked up only the softest of the curls and danced with them.

No. No. No.

_During his stay the medical staff made an effort to stimulate motor activity and relieve boredom by encouraging their patients to join the hospital band, leading to his first exposure to a percussion instrument: a makeshift mallet that he used to strike the cabinets next to his bed._

He stands straighter and tries to concentrate on Savan’s intro but he's only fooling himself. He knows that all too well. He’s trying, he really is, but his mind times out as soon as Savan begins retelling the chart listing.

His gaze keeps landing on the very visible space left next to Harry, space big enough for at least two Louis Tomlinson-sized arses to sit comfortably.

Right.

Would make perfect sense to sit down there. But if he did-- No. He can’t deal with touching at all. Not now, anyway. Not when a single look burns him alive. Everything hurts.

_Beatles biographer Bob Spitz described Starkey's upbringing as "a Dickensian chronicle of misfortune"._

“All settled? You’re not gonna…?”

He looks up and sees Savan motioning towards him with a confused frown, probably only now realising that he's not gonna claim his territory in Harry’s lap, not going to swing his legs over Harry's, but he's going to stand there instead, behind the couch. Savan seems well aware that _this_ Louis Tomlinson is new and the entire scene feels wrong and if his deepening frown is anything to go by, he hasn't missed the palpable tension.

 _Great_.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that he fails to act normal because they were always such a tight knit and tactile group. Some body parts always had to touch. Even if it wasn’t very comfortable. Even if they were offered alternatives like an extra leather armchair they politely refused and sat on the small couch designed for no more than two people. It didn’t matter because being _comfortable_ didn’t necessarily mean being _better._

Not now though. Now he isn’t even the fifth wheel. It’s worse than that and it shouldn’t take long for everyone to notice that Harry became the moon and Louis became the sun, only meeting for a short time each day.

_Starkey befriended Roy Trafford, and the two bonded over their shared interest in music._

“Louis?” _Fuck_. Savan is still waiting for his answer.

He whips his head up and looks at Savan, feeling very well the burning gaze of four pair of eyes on him. Then as if in slow motion they all focus on the empty human-sized space next to Harry. Louis mirrors the movement. He swears he’s able to hear the empty seat mocking him.

“I’m...er.” His voice is raspy, he has to clear his throat before adding a measly “I’m good, yeah.” He shakes his head quickly, he needs to get it together right fucking now.

_Soon after Trafford piqued Starkey's interest in skiffle, the two began rehearsing songs in the manufacturing plant's cellar during their lunch breaks._

He inhales deeply and allows his imaginary mask to fall into its usual place like a transparent delicate veil. “So, what’s the song?” He asks Savan with one raised eyebrow.

If anyone notices his voice dripping of forced enthusiasm and being an octave higher than usual, no one dares to mention it. It’s like everyone's afraid of being the first one to make the wrong move or say the wrong thing. Everything is such a clusterfuck.

He feels self-conscious from the unwanted attention and clears his throat for the third time. Thankfully, that snaps everyone out of their reverie. Thank fuck because he really wants is to get back to business and get it over with before he fucking breaks.

_He just made a noise on a box... Sometimes, he just slapped a biscuit tin with some keys, or banged on the backs of chairs._

He’s not going to break in front of them.

“Okay,” Savan mumbles, a seemingly permanent frown etched between his brows. He gets on his feet and drops the small stack of papers in Liam’s lap urging him to take one sheet and hand it over to the others. It takes a few beats for Louis to realise what that means because of course, it’s just his luck that Harry's the one closest to him.

He feels sweat beading along his hairline and his grip tightens on the sofa. Will they have to talk? Touch? Oh god.

Harry solves the problem by lifting Louis’ paper above his head, not even turning in his direction, nor speaking to him.

_During recording sessions he spent countless hours playing cards with their road manager Neil Aspinall and roadie Mal Evans while the other Beatles perfected tracks without him._

Louis reaches forward and snatches it, swallowing down the sour taste taking residence in his mouth. _You deserve this_.

“Okay guys. We only have three weeks before the show is over.” Savan rubs his palms in excitement, his previous frown no longer present. “So who was it?”

 _The Beatles._ He knew it the moment Savan uttered the name of their first hit.

“The Beatles.” Liam replies matter of factly.

“Perfect! Liam gets the point!” Savan exclaims. “You can find all of their hits on the paper. Now, study them and when you're ready we're playing a little game.”

Harry scoots to the edge of the couch, lifting his legs in a way that closes the space next to him. It feels like a door swinging shut in the face. A slap would hurt less. He has the urge to flee to Doncaster and never return.

_In a letter published in Melody Maker, a fan asked the Beatles to let Starr sing more; he replied: "[I am] quite happy with my one little track on each album"._

“The Beatles? Really?” Harry sits up straighter and high-fives Zayn. _You would’ve known if you paid attention._ He bites his lips, feeling the sudden jealousy taint his cheeks red. He doesn't need to look at Harry to know he lights up like a christmas tree. “I have all of their albums on vinyl!” Harry squeals.

Louis wants to shout _‘I know! And you keep them in a glass cabinet. Your first vinyl. You were so happy when you got it that you almost knocked the cake off the table when you hugged your mum and Robin. You laughed when you told me the story. You tugged your fringe away from your eyes when you taught me the names of every person who worked at the bakery with you. You said 'And then there’s Mary. She’s a sweetheart. God, I have so many people to introduce you to.’_

_I never had the chance to visit your home. You visited at mine but I wasn't at yours._

_I won't see the bakery you're so proud of._

_I’ll never be introduced to Mary_.

Fuck.

He lets out a loud sigh. The word ‘ _Beatles_ ’ is also tainted by painful memories now. Fucking splendid.

“Yes. It’s Beatles week! Which one of their songs do you think would fit you best?”

“ _Let it be_ is pretty cool. And it would be nice because the Beatles are a band and we’re also one, so we should go for it.” Liam shrugs.

“With that logic any of their songs would be fitting,” Zayn comments.

“It’s a great song indeed,” Savan starts, ignoring Zayn’s comment. “But I’d bet you a hundred that one of the girls already chose that one. Think out of the box.”

“ _Yellow Submarine.”_  Niall frowns.

“I'm not wearing yellow!” Liam exclaims.

“We won't be in costumes,” Niall elbows him playfully. “Or will we?”

“ _Twist and shout_!” Zayn beams. “And I don’t think so.”

“I _magine.”_  Niall adds.

“ _Let it be!_ ” Harry joins and turns towards Niall. “And I like yellow.”

Savan sighs. “Forget about _Let it be_ and _Imagine_. We heard them in 478 billion interpretations. We need something fresh and young, something exciting. We’ll leave those songs to the boring people.”

Harry raises his hand--to protest, Louis has no doubt about that.

Savan’s eyes widen. “Don’t take it _literally_ , Harry. They’re all good, in fact, classic, but those are what everyone expects.”

Seemingly satisfied with the response Harry drops his hand. Then opens his mouth and screams the longest sentence produced by a human being. “Hey Jude! Do you want to know a secret? Imagine All I’ve got to do From me to You Till there was you! Wait! Help! Get back! Don’t pass me by! Don’t let me down! Johnny B. Goode I’m in love! Ask me why! Because I know you l-love-m-me-s--” He can’t even finish it, the dork he is starts laughing about halfway through.

“Impressive,” Savan says bemusedly then claps twice. “Okay, I need some seriousness boys. We have to come up with a good song by the end of this session.” He claps his hands again. “Come on give me ideas.”

“Mine wasn't enough?”

“As much as I appreciate you screaming half of their discography in one breath, Harry, I’d rather you kept guessing.”

“ _Yesterday_ ,” Liam chimes in.

“ _Boring_.”

“That's not a song, Savan,” Niall chuckles.

 _All you need is love_.

Louis must have said it out loud because Savan whips his head towards him faster than a bullet and throws an enthusiastic index finger in his direction. “That’s what I’m talking about! All you need is love! Released in 1967!” His breathing becomes ragged he’s so pumped. “Number one after its release both in the UK and the US. Fifteenth on Billboard’s all time, first in Hot 100!”

“Do you think he knows the statistics about all of their songs?” Niall asks.

“He’s scary,” Zayn replies.

“Boys, if you’re quite finished… Turn your page and you’ll find the lyrics and the music sheet for _All You Need Is Love_.”

“Fuck. It was here all this time?” Niall whines.

 

*

 

Louis checks out about halfway through the session willing his eyes to stop looking at how Harry and Niall goof around happily. But no matter how hard he tries, his gaze always lands on them. Like a fucking moth to a flame.

“Okay, that's it for today.”

He sighs with relief, grateful the moment came. He's finally free of Harry’s chokehold even if it’s only until they see each other again. He’s beginning to realise Harry’s voice, his presence, his scent, just knowing he's there, so close and every fucking thing about him makes him want to set himself on fire.

He finds himself at the threshold in two quick strides. He pulls the door open--

“Louis, a word, please.”

Just his luck. He all but stomps his feet against the floor cursing himself. He steps out of the way letting the boys leave the room and slowly closes the door behind himself. He isn't in the mood for pleasantries and he’s not even sure this is what Savan wants to say. He lifts his gaze up slowly.

“You were quiet today. Is everything okay?”

Everything _hurts._ “Sure, just tired, is all,” he lies, seemingly getting pro at it lately.

Or not because Savan’s frown reappears. “If you want to talk, I'm here.”

“Thank you but it won't be necessary,” he refuses politely. “Just need to get me some more sleep, is all.”

Savan reassures him three more times that he's there if he decides to talk about what's bothering him.

After a long awkward tension-filled silence, Savan finally dismisses him and he hurries his steps.

 

When he finally gets to the other music room he closes the door quietly. He leans his entire body against it, rests his head against the wooden surface waiting for his breathing to even out.

He closes his eyes and lets out long exhales just like his mum taught him.

Then he hears a sniffling sound and his body immediately tenses up.

He only needs to take one step inside, he can immediately make out the setting sun outlining the familiar mop of curls.

_Harry._

He’s sitting slumped against the wall, at an angle that must be uncomfortable. Louis’ pretty sure no human should sit like that but it's like Harry's body gave out at that very spot and decided to stop functioning so it stranded him near the wall.

Louis takes a step forward just to have a closer look at Harry but just his luck... the floorboard creaks and Harry whips his head up, startled, hands coming up to swipe his tears away hurriedly, but not quickly enough for Louis to miss it.

 _Everything hurts_.

Nothing is said for a few heartbeats, the only sound in the room is Louis’ own heart hammering in his throat.

Then something twitches in those green eyes that used to be so full of life before everything turned shit. The twitch makes Louis turn away and take a step back.

“You about to run away again?” Harry’s voice stops him mid-step. It's so full of venom that he's paralysed for a moment. “Or should _I_ leave?” he scoffs. His voice is barely above a whisper, but the bite is still tangible, no matter how shaky it is. “You’d want that, right? Being let off the hook? To make it easy on you? Well, I'm not gonna. I’m gonna stay rooted fucking here and if anyone is leaving, it's going to be you.” The words are spat out of his mouth like water spout.

Louis realises this is the most he talked to Harry in days and he's asking him all those questions. If he wants _this_ , if he wants _that_ , when the thing is, he doesn't fucking know what the fuck he wants.

His vote is on his heart to stop hurting, to stop jumping out of his chest every fucking minute, he doesn’t want the anxiety anymore, he wants the sadness to stop. He really wants to stop feeling sad. He wants to stop checking his back or the room everytime he enters, he wants to stop fighting it, wants to stop the instinct to look around just to make sure Harry isn't there, then wants to stop wondering where he really is when he’s nowhere in sight. He wants to turn his instincts off, instincts telling him Harry's close, behind him, in the room, next to him, outside. He's so sick of fighting it. So fucking tired. He just-- wants to---

He wants to _stop_.

He slumps himself next to Harry. Not too close, but much closer than he’s been around him since... since _that day._ The proximity of their bodies floods him with memories. Memories he’s been pushing down so hard, trying to forget just to protect himself but failing every single time.

It was easier when Harry wasn't this close, then he could at least pretend everything was temporary, that they would get through it, maybe become friends eventually for the band’s sake.

“I want to stop running,” he whispers, voice rusty as if it hasn’t been used for days. He doesn’t know if he intends Harry to hear this, he doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to be this open, this vulnerable, but he’s just too fucking tired to go on like this.

He feels his heart fly up in his throat, rabbiting so fast he swears Harry can hear it. His body shouldn't react that way; he anticipated this, he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew that one day he'd have to sit down and have “ _The Talk._ ”

He just didn't expect it to happen now. He’s not prepared. Not in the slightest. He isn’t ready to have his already shattered heart handed back to him. He's not ready for all his hopes and dreams to be crushed by the only boy he ever loved.

“But you’re not ready to talk,” Harry whispers brokenly.

Is he ready? Most definitely not. And isn't that the saddest thing? Having Harry finally here in the same room breathing the same air after those weeks of separation but he's still not being ready to open up to him and share his deepest fears.

“’m afraid I’m not,” he whispers back, sounding just as broken.

At that, Harry hits his open palm against the floor. “No, you can’t just do that Louis! You can’t fucking run away every time you see it fit! You can’t do this forever! You're gonna have to face me one day and I’m not gonna let you go until you tell me what the fuck happened and what I did wrong.”

 _Wrong?_ Louis almost laughs at the mere thought that Harry thinks it's his fault. It’s no one’s fault. But it doesn't matter anymore. “Let it go Harry. Please just let it go. _Please,_ ” he breathes and wraps his arms around himself shivering in horror at the mere thought of Harry not letting it go and wanting to peel off every single layer left around him until he's only 206 bones.

“How can I let it go? How can I let _you_ go? Tell me?! You think I didn’t think about it? You think I don’t know how much easier it would be if I could let you walk away?” Harry’s screaming like a madman then he’s in front of him all of a sudden. He places his hand on Louis’ knee and starts tracing some shapes tentatively. He looks at Louis with those greens and they're so intense they almost turn black.

Louis finds himself in a staring contest, heart hammering, mouth dry from his ragged breathing.

_Too close._

He pulls his knees up and sits on his bent leg instead.

Harry’s hands drop lifelessly and even though they aren't touching anymore, Louis still feels Harry’s gaze on him, _burning burning burning._

“But I can’t, okay?” Louis doesn't dare to look up at that. “At least not until you tell me why. Just-- just give me something, anything. An explanation! Please!” Harry begs and fuck. Fuck! FUCK! “Because I couldn't find any! I replayed every minute we spent together and we were so happy? We were in… I still-- I-- Louis, I couldn't find shit. And I... I don't know what I did wrong.” His low drawl is slicing through Louis’ heart with the edge of a thousand knives. “Was I not enou----”

“--God, Harry. No. You were---” _Perfect. The best. Mine._ He has to bite his lip so hard he's almost tasting blood.

“I was what? I was what, Louis? Too much work? Too pushy? Too young? Too different? Too clingy? Too what?”

“No.”

“Then what was it?”

“Life. I guess.” Louis mutters, feeling utter shit the moment those words leave his mouth.

“Life?” Harry scoffs. “ _Life?_ You _guess_? That's the biggest fucking bullshit and you know that! You _guess?_ That’s fucking low, Louis.”

The disappointment settling on Harry’s face is impossible to bear. But he won’t speak. He’ll bite into the back of his fucking hand if that’s what it takes but he can’t fucking speak.

When the realisation hits Harry his shoulders slump visibly. “So you're not telling me. Great. Splendid. Fucking amazing. So I don't deserve an explanation? Even the fucking convicted get one. Why don't _I_ deserve any? What did I do? Tell me! What the fuck did I do to not get even something acceptable?”

“H.” Louis whispers, needing the last ounce of his strength.

“No! No, Louis! I'm sitting here, literally crying my eyes out, begging you to be honest! For once! For fucking once in weeks! And you’re still lying your arse off! I know you are! I just don't understand why the fuck it takes this much to tell me you don’t-- that you don’t want m--

‘Harry. Stop.” Louis flinches and presses his lips together.

“Why should I stop? How much longer do you want to wait? I got it okay? It’s not news anymore. I figured it out myself.”

“Please.”

Harry keeps ignoring Louis’ pleas, letting it all out. “You know what hurts the most? It's not even that you stopped talking to me or that you acted like I'm a ghost to you. It's not even that you dumped me not only as a boyfriend but your best fucking friend. None of that is as painful as knowing that even now you're not telling me anything. Even when I fucking beg and break in front of you, you stay silent. That-- that just… it really fucking hurts, Lou.”

Louis has to swallow the nausea back that starts crawling up his throat.

“I'm not asking for the stars, okay? I'm not in denial, I'm not-- I’m not fucking stupid, I know that we’re not-- that I’ve already lost you.” He waits a heartbeat before he adds quietly. “I already accepted that you don't lo- like me anymore.”

Louis’ ready to punch the wall, he can't listen to Harry saying he doesn’t love him. A universe where Harry Styles goes to bed with the thought that Louis Tomlinson isn’t in love with him shouldn’t fucking _exist._

 _Doesn’t_ fucking exist.

Fuck!

This is all his fault. He literally left Harry in an abandoned corner boil in his own thoughts. Of course then Harry started blaming himself and came up with this fabricated nonsense that he doesn’t love him.

He needs to say something, anything that can stop Harry’s monologue. He opens his mouth but Harry stops him with a pointed look, looking desperate, as if begging him to let him finish because if he can’t say it now he won’t say it ever.

“No, don't say anything, please. It's okay, it happens, I get it. I mean no, I don’t get it, but the heart… the heart wants what it wants, right?” His smile looks so forced and empty that Louis has to close his eyes briefly, he can’t bear the sight.

“But I miss my fr-” Harry’s voice breaks right then. “I m-miss my friend, I miss my b-best friend so fucking much. I want my b-best friend back.” Harry drops his head and wipes the tears out of his eyes aggressively.

_Fuck._

Louis feels tears invading his own eyes as well then the acid nearing his throat. His brain keeps yelling _abort-abort_ , desperately looking for an out because he can’t just _sit here_ and listen to Harry crying his fucking heart out.

This is not how it was supposed to happen! It’s not how it was fucking supposed to happen! He’s ready to tear his own hair out, for fuck’s sake how did this happen? Harry was supposed to go on and live his life, live his _dream_ happily. He was not supposed to doubt it, he was just supposed to pack this experience in a box and put it on a shelf and look at it once or twice. He wasn't supposed to maul every single moment they spent together and question if it was real.

As if they weren't in _love_.

As if Harry wasn't his everything. As if he wasn’t his beginning and his end point. Never the middle, never the half. He was his everything and his nothing. There's no in between.

_I miss my friend._

He’s not Harry’s friend, never was and never will be. Whatever the fuck they're trying to save here, he can’t be Harry’s friend, for fuck’s sake, how could he?

He can't be less than a lover, he can't be _anything_ _less_ after knowing what it is to have his full attention, after hearing Harry’s laugh at one of his silly jokes, after feeling his embrace, after breathing the same breath as him, after tasting those full lips, after being _his._

Fuck, not these thoughts again.

He cannot fucking allow himself to go to that place again. It's fucking madness.

He needs to be strong here, he can't turn weak now, even if it hurts like a motherfucker hearing Harry believe he doesn’t love him anymore, as if their time spent together was a joke, just two boys experimenting, kissing, getting each other off because they were curious. Fuck.

“You w-were my ev-everything and I… I’m so fucking l-lost,” Harry whispers. It's a miracle he can still talk with the tears dribbling down his cheeks.

Louis would do anything for the pain to stop. But he doesn’t. He just sits there.

Just takes it.

 _Deserves_ it.

 _‘You know he deserves it. And I trust you'll make the right decision,’_ comes the voice in his head. The dreaded voice, the only voice that makes him sweat instantly. ‘ _And just to be clear. This stays between us_. _You don't want to jeopardize things, I'm sure. You're smarter than that'._

He can't take this anymore. He wants it all to stop. He wants Harry to stop talking. He wants all the the voices in his head to stop.

He wants everyone to just shut the fuck up.

He wants to curl up in a ball and die.

Harry keeps talking though, relentlessly, twisting the knife inside his already empty and bleeding heart. “I...I know we can't have w-what we had before. I'm not asking for k-kisses or anything. I'm asking for con-conversations and...” Harry bites his lip as fresh tears spring into his eyes. “And maybe c-cuddles when I miss h-home. I’m not… not asking for f-feelings because…  I know we--” he looks dead straight into Louis’ eyes, letting him see tear after tear racing down his face.

_Maybe it’s just a bad dream. Maybe I’m in Donny, maybe I never auditioned. Maybe my name isn’t even Louis._

“I'm asking for the things the la-lads are getting from you. Because I had it. I had it all and I l-lost it, and… and I don’t know w-what I did wrong, but after having you and k-knowing how it feels to have y-you, I...” Harry sniffles and flicks the tears away with shaky fingers. “I… I c-can't bear the-- can't bear the… the thought of not h-having you at all.”

The urge to pull Harry in his lap and cry with him hits him so hard that he has to fight the urge with all his willpower to reach out and just do it.

“P-Please Lou,” Harry is begging now, voice cracking. “I want m-my friend back.”

Louis’ vision becomes blurry, sweat drips down his face. He jolts upwards, the sudden movement makes him dizzy immediately, and rushes in the direction of the adjacent bathroom. He can still hear Harry’s last plea dying down in his throat.

“Please.”

He swings the toilet door open and kneels down, already feeling his strength leave his body. He clutches the toilet seat with shaky fingers just in time for the dry heaving to come. Tears begin chasing each other down his face in a sick race, soaking his t-shirt, leaving wet traces everywhere. He squeezes his lids shut and allows the food he never ate to reach his throat and leave his body. It takes long minutes for the dry-heaving to stop.

He feels empty.

 _Please, I want my friend back_.

Why did Harry say that? It feels so much worse like this. And yet he deserves worse. He deserves _Not my boyfriend_. He deserves _Louis stop._

The tears turn into quiet sobs and the quiet sobs soon become uncontrollable.

He hears Harry come up behind him. He can only imagine how pathetic he must look, sitting on the tile, powerless, body trembling, saliva dripping from his mouth.

“Lou, you okay?” Harry sounds on the edge of panicking.

Louis doesn’t have the strength to reply.

“Do you want me to call Liam or Zayn? Someone?”

He shakes his head.

That’s all he can muster.

 

*

 

Harry doesn’t really know what to feel anymore, to cry or to scream at him to finish this conversation so he can get an actual closure. Not like this.

But then he saw that Louis was indeed getting sick, and his skin was getting paler and paler before he jolted up and left him while he was begging to be his friend again.

He follows him to the toilet and finds him vomiting violently, body shaking, slumped on the floor, hands clutching to the toilet seat like a lifeline.

He kneels down next to him and doesn’t know how long they stay there, it feels like a lifetime, but then somehow the vomiting stops and Louis collapses on the tile tiredly, burying his face into his hands, breathing so hard that it worries Harry like crazy.

He starts stroking Louis’ back and before he can think about how naturally it still comes to him, he feels the sweat forming wet stains through the material of the thin t-shirt.

He doesn't need a PhD to know this isn't good. Not to mention that Louis is still trembling like a leaf, he's quiet, weak, so uncharacteristically Louis.

“Lou, we’re going to stand up now. I need you to help me because I can’t hold your weight alone. Can you do that for me?”

Louis nods his consent. Thank god because Harry wouldn’t have any idea how to get him out, definitely not without help.

He flushes the toilet before he lifts Louis up slowly by wrapping his hand around his waist.

“Harry,” Louis mumbles weakly after they’re both stood up.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here,” Harry whispers softly.

Louis leans his head into him and rests half of his weight on him. They leave the music room quietly then take a right turn heading to the sleeping quarters.

Harry prays they can make this short trip without bumping into people. He doesn't want to meet anyone. They’d only ask questions, questions he _himself_ doesn’t have the answers to.

It takes him a while but he finally manages to open the door to their bedroom with one elbow and leads Louis to his bed.

The room is empty, thank God.

Louis sits down, pulls his legs up and lies hunched in fetal position. He looks so vulnerable, that Harry can’t just leave him like that and sits on the edge of the bed. He can’t not touch him, not in this state. Even if that small touch burns him with a hundred fires.

He reasons he’s only touching Louis’ forehead to check on his condition and only holds his pinky because every sick person wants company. Right?

It takes a few minutes for Louis’ trembling to stop and even though his face got some healthy pink back, he’s still in his drenched clothes. He turns towards Harry slowly, face still so pale and mouth so dry that Harry fills a glass as soon as he sees him. He gulps slowly and Harry swears he sees tears gleaming in his eyes.

It’s the vomiting, Harry reasons to himself. Everyone cries after being sick. He lifts his hand instinctively and wipes the tears away, the pad of his fingers touch the wet traces on Louis’ face gently.

Louis keeps his eyes open only for a few seconds, then closes them.

“I think a shower would make you feel better. Or do you want to go straight to bed?”

Louis’ eyes widen at that. “No shower. Just bed, please.”

“Okay, but you need to get warm otherwise you’ll catch a cold. Wait, I’m bringing my blanket.”

Louis doesn’t protest at that, thank god.

It only takes a few strides to fetch the heavy fluffy blanket that held so many memories together.

By the time he gets back, Louis is already asleep.

He tries to swallow the disappointment down. Maybe it's better this way, maybe it would’ve been too awkward to just sit next to him and watch him curled up in bed.

He places the blanket over Louis’ sleeping body and tucks all the edges in, making sure he’s completely covered by it.

He stays next to the bed and starts shifting his weight from one leg to another. He feels like a creep while watching Louis drift off to sleep.

_This isn’t your job anymore_

He doesn’t even know what he’s allowed to do anymore. Can he even console him now that they’re-- what are they even? Friends? Acquaintances? How can he define their relationship when all they've been doing is floating in this uncertainty for weeks?

He has to stop beating himself up, he has to start doing something useful because Louis obviously needs a friend now and he would be damned if he didn’t at least try to be that.

He gets Benadryl from the kitchen cabinet, fills a glass with water and places them on the nightstand. It’ll be useful when he wakes up.

“G’night Lou,” he whispers and walks to his own bed quietly, trying to not make any noise.

He quickly changes into a cotton t-shirt and boxer briefs and stops next to the closet.

He looks at Louis’ sleeping body then at his own bed then at Louis again.

He walks to his own bed slowly, each body part protesting, not wanting to leave Louis alone. He lies down and looks at the ceiling while listening to Louis’ breathing.

Fuck it.

His legs take him to Louis’ bed before he has a chance to think about how big of a mistake he's about to make.

He lies down next to Louis and watches him sleep.

Only because he's sick. No one should be left alone when they're sick.

Only for the night.

Then he'll be out of his hair.

He won't risk waiting for him to wake up and look at him questioningly why the fuck he spent the night in his bed. No-no.

He’ll leave in the morning.

But for now, he’s not thinking about awkward morning encounters, just stays there listening to Louis’ quiet snores, guarding his dreams while struggling with his own tears.

 

*

 

Things take a slight turn for the better from that day onward and Harry doesn't care what's the reason for that, whether it's the talk they had or the fact that Louis got so sick that he was too weak to push him away, forgetting to ignore his existence.

It doesn't matter and he doesn't care.

Just dives into it, head-on, face first because all he wanted was to get their friendship back - _for now_ , a voice keeps nagging him- and although it’ll never be the same as before and it’s painfully tentative, he can’t deny that Louis is actively trying to be his friend and he appreciates that.

He doesn't want to wallow on why there's a need for efforts when it used to be effortless before or why that talk seemed to change things. No. He doesn't allow his mind to get there. He buries all that shit somewhere deep inside and appreciates what he's being given.

They try to talk, _try_ being the operative word, because it feels so superficial, so weird, _so not them_ , but they keep trying, keep pushing and it’s progress because anything is better than Louis ignoring him.

They go for safe topics, like the band, news from home or music. Private matters aren’t discussed.

It’s not a walk in the park, Harry realises, and starts feeling like he’s talking to his neighbour, instead of his… _Louis_. He still can’t call him his ex, because calling him that would mean that he closed that chapter but he’s not going to close it, he's not going to even touch that fucking book when his love story is still stuck on this one page, open-ended because he never got closure.

He has thousands of questions. He wants to know what changed, wants to know why they can’t click anymore. But most of all wants to know what the fuck he’s supposed to do to get a semblance of what they had back.

Because soon it turns out that friendship isn't enough and things get worse, especially when he sees Louis visibly relieved after they end a conversation.

Both of them know it’s not working.

They can’t seem to get from A to B and as the days pass and Harry starts to regret his plea to form a friendship, because this Louis is not the Louis Tomlinson he met.

He should just give up. He knows giving up would be the most logical thing, but logic is fucked.

He won't give it up, he _can't_ give it up because Louis Tomlinson in any shape or form is _worth it._

Without  question.

He's. Worth. It.

Harry’s determined to do his best to salvage whatever is left, regardless of how hurt he could get in the process.

So he swallows his pride down and initiates random conversations himself and keeps pushing it, asking Louis about his family.

This seems to be a safe topic, considering how much Louis loves them. His entire face lights up when he talks about them, like it used to when he talked to Harry about anything before. But now, his family seems to bring him the happiness Harry used to and Harry is so fucking sad he forgets to answer him when Louis asks about Gemma’s new boyfriend.

But it’s okay.

It _has_ to be okay.

As soon as the family topic dries up, their conversations are cut short again, the tentativeness comes back, the relaxed shoulders become flexed, their eyes turn evasive and there're more and more deep breaths putting breaks into the conversations.

 

*

 

A few days pass until Louis is healthy again.

Aiden gets voted out and with that they both lose a good friend. That's the first elimination that really shakes Harry.

No matter how many days pass, the tension still lingers between them, the unfinished conversation still hangs above their heads, and the talk they had in the music room hasn't solved a single thing, it’s only brought more questions than answers.

He's terrified to ask about _them._

Louis said he wants to stop running. He promised to stop running. But in a way he still is. Harry wants him to--

He doesn't know what he wants, all he knows is he doesn't want the _now_ , he wants the _past_ because for some undoubtedly masochistic reason he's still clinging to the fucking past when he knows all too well he shouldn’t and he needs to sort himself out really fucking quickly because wanting more than you're given is a risky territory and he can't bear the thought of losing Louis again just because he's so fucking weak for him. He can't bear the thought of not having him at all.

He starts getting mad at everyone, mad at himself for settling, mad at Louis for letting him, mad at him because he gave this _something_ and Harry might as well give it back because it's broken, it's not working, and what he’s getting from Louis isn’t what he wanted.

But friendship is what he asked for _in whatever shape or form_ and friendship is what he got.

And now he has to deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know.. I know.. you hate me 'cause they talked but it's like they didn't. I've been in this situation once and let me tell you it's not easy. When they both think they know what the other thinks when in reality they have no clue. Don't forget they're 16 and 18. Stressed. Tired. Rehearsing 10 plus hours per day. They're gonna get there where we all want them to but first they need to go very low before they can offer a hand and pull each other up.
> 
> Talk to me in the comments, I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> Peace.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's posting 1 day earlier!! This is 9/13. :) We're getting there, we're getting there.  
> This is one of my favorite chapters, I hope you'll like it as much as I do.

Their talks get reduced to a daily hello and Harry finds himself back where it all started.

Maybe a competition that requires them to focus for 14+ hours per day isn't the best setting for mending fences. Maybe when they'll get out of here it’ll be much easier. Or maybe it'll be even harder, because they'll be scattered around England, hours away from each other.

Their last weeks get even more packed since they have to sing two songs. Their rehearsals have tripled, their choreo has become a daily thing -what for, Harry has no idea, they're still incapable of executing even the shortest dance routine-, and they're in more stress than ever because the stakes are getting much higher and if they fuck up even just once, their bubble bursts and it's over. That's the very last thing they want so they double their efforts in making this a successful thing and rehearse even when they're asleep. No kidding, they're humming in their dreams. Of course, as expected, they get so exhausted that it soon feels their souls only come to them to sleep.

The weeks leading to the semi-final pass in a blur.

When they learn that Robbie is going to be their guest mentor they start running around screaming _we're singing with Robbie fucking Williams_ to pretty much any human being who crosses their paths. Everyone fears meeting them that day.

Robbie’s great, he spends hours with them  and talks about band dynamics, about the importance of sticking together and shares some of his experiences in the business. His best advice is to have fun and if it doesn't feel fun then make it fun. Sounds legit.

When they're on stage with Robbie Harry forgets about the stress, about his clusterfuck with Louis and just allows himself to bop with Robbie the fanboy that he is. They wrap their arms around each other’s shoulders during the song and even have a nice group hug when they finish.

The next song is Torn and their choreography is on those cubes again. Maybe it’s thanks to Robbie’s advice or it's just Niall being awesome but it seems Niall's cubeophobia is gone.

Unlike Harry who's sweating backstage feeling dizzy and a bit nauseated. He can still hear everyone run around like poisoned ants looking for Louis.

Louis’ head pops up a few minutes later. “What’s wrong?” He asks, panting.

“My stomach. It feels like ugh I don't know.”

Louis frowns. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah…er. A packet of sour Skittles.”

“For breakfast?” Louis asks looking at him with concern.

“Er… the whole day.”

“The _whole_ day? Jesus, Harry. You need to eat something,” he says and looks behind his shoulder. “I'll be right back.” He comes back a few minutes later with a packet of Stickletti’s in hand. “Eat up.”

Harry munches on one pretzel stick then two and before he knows it half of the packet is gone. It takes about ten more minutes until he finally starts feeling a bit better.

He joins the lads who stand in a big circle and squeezes himself between Zayn and Liam.

Louis stands on Liam’s other side. He doesn't look at him, too busy chatting with one of the stage staff Harry's hardly seen around.

Harry swallows down something sour which has nothing to do with his nausea and walks up to Niall who's surprisingly alone.

“Cubes?” Harry asks and stands next to him.

“Nah, that's alright. It's just… this is our last show ya know? This could be it, I could wake up in me own bed tomorrow. I just wanna save this moment, maybe I'm never gonna be on stage again, you know?”

“Yeah. It's scary.”

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, a bit.” Harry mutters, keeping one eye on Louis and the guy. It's not like he's jealous or something but a minute ago he felt like he was the centre of Louis’ universe, even if just for a moment, even if just for getting a packet of Stickletti’s, and it sucks seeing other people getting his attention.

Louis laughs at something the guy has said so obnoxiously loud that everyone turns in their direction. The guy keeps staring at Louis like there's no one else in the world. Harry knows that feeling very well. Still, the guy's eyes focus on him far too much for his liking. Then just to put more oil on the fire the guy pats Louis on the shoulder and leaves his hand there much longer than necessary.

At that moment, Louis turns around and looks in Harry’s direction and their gazes lock. He pats the guy on the shoulder just like the guy did a moment ago then shows up right next to Harry and Niall.

“Being a busy bee?” Harry asks sourly.

Louis frowns at that. “What?”

Harry tips his head toward the stage guy. “Chatting him up.”

Louis’ blue eyes turn so impossibly dark blue that they're like the sea during a week-long storm. “Chatting hi--? You think I---” He shakes his head angrily. “You know what? If you fancy making a fool out of yourself be my guest.”

Harry can only scoff at that. “Yeah. Whatever.”

Louis drops the packet in his hand and walks away.

“Haz,” Niall starts.

“Yeah. I know. I have no right anymore.”

“I’m not so sure about that but the guy is coming towards us.”

“Which guy?” Harry asks, looking around.

“The guy who---”

“Harry?” And just his luck, the missing dot on the 'i’, the stage guy shows up next to him.

“Yeah?”

The guy looks awfully cheerful for someone who's just snatched someone's boyfriend. Well. Ex-boyfriend. “You’ll stand in the middle, between Liam and Louis.”

Okay that's not what he expected. “Wha-- but I was… I was supposed to be on the cube on the far left?”

“Yup. Right until Louis begged me to blink while you and Niall switch so he can stand next to you. The things that boy of yours is doing. God.”

Harry hears static after _that boy of yours_.

“So, that'll do good? You between Liam and Louis?”

Oh.

That means Louis…

Oh. Fuck!

“Er.. yeah. I think.”

He feels like complete and utter shit for behaving the way he did. He wants to apologise and starts looking for him in the sea of people but they're called on stage and no matter how hard he tries he can't catch Louis’ gaze.

He lets out a relieved breath when Louis positions himself next to him even though he doesn't exchange a word with him.

He wants to tell him he's sorry but there're two hundred cameras in their faces and this might be their last performance and he'd be damned if he fucked it up so he puts his personal issues aside and concentrates hard.

They sound much better than at bootcamp, their voices mash together, they're nothing like those five scared young boys they were weeks ago.

When they're about halfway through the song the lights become too much and the dizziness comes back again. He tries to put his legs wider apart just to avoid falling off the cube. He's already over his own solo and it's only a couple of lines left but if he falls off he can put their entire competition in jeopardy. While he's busy imagining the judges’ disapproving faces a strong arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him back to life.

He doesn't know what kind of receptors Louis is equipped with, because the others go on without noticing the whole thing but Louis… it's like he _knows_ and with that one single touch saves the song for them.

Harry's not allowing himself to think about how it's possible that someone is so in tune with him and still discards him like a used tissue.

Despite his own struggles, they get nice comments and two out of three judges even go as far as to say they deserve to be in the final. Not only that, they're confident One Direction is going to make it into the final.

That's kinda the best compliment they could get at this point and they start to believe they have a shot and somehow feel hopeful they'll get out of this with a secure future. Or a recording deal. Big words.

They're ushered backstage, their make-up and hair get retouched twice in the span of ten minutes and Harry's pretty sure he's going to strangle someone if that powder brush comes any closer to his face again.

When everyone finishes the last touches the usual backstage rush becomes more frantic which could only mean one thing.

“Acts 1D, Matt and Rebecca on stage please,” one staff member yells. Two people give them directions asking them not to forget to stand at a red ‘x’, there’re staff members yelling with people through their headsets, the big screen shows a countdown to the end of the commercial break.

The next thing he remembers is they're walking alongside Simon and take their position on stage at the red 'x’.

“So let’s welcome back the finalists and their judges,” Dermot says. _Finally!!_

And then the lights turn on, directed right on their faces, and Harry has to squint, they’re so blinding.

“Here it goes. Good luck to everyone.” Dermot says as if there wasn't enough tension in the room already.

“It's gonna be a walk in the park,” Simon whispers. Harry's not so sure about that.

“In no particular order the first act through to the next stage of the final is---

One beat. Two beats… Seven beats.

“Matt!”

Okay. Okay. Just don't panic, don't fucking panic. There's still 50% chance to get in.

Matt hugs them and leaves the stage happily. Harry watches his retreating body. Good lad. Deserves it.

Then Dermot’s voice comes again. “So, One Direction and Rebecca. One of you have made it into the top two and one of you have received the fewest votes and is out of the competition.”

Harry pinches his nose and looks at the ground waiting for Dermot to say One Direction.

“The second act still in the final is--”

One beat. Two beats. One Direction. Three beats. One Direction. He swears he can only see in spots. Four beats. Jesus. Five beats. Is Dermot fucking counting it to make it seven beats again?

“Rebecca!!”

Then there’s static. A jumping Rebecca holding her mouth in surprise. A stage erupting in happiness. Some dramatic music playing. Clapping. Screaming. The lights feel more intense.

Harry feels a hand on his shoulder, anchoring him. It's pretty much the only thing keeping him together.

They came in third.

He squats down and buries his face in his hands.

Third place.

Fuck! _Third!_ His dreams are in ruins. _Their_ dreams are in ruins. Everything is over.

There will be no finale for them, no more live shows, no more chances because they blew the one they had. This time the final song is going to be played _for_ them.

He’s happy for Matt and Rebecca, they deserve it, they deserve to be in the final because they’re amazing and worked hard.

_But we worked just as hard._

He squats down and buries his head in his hands and stays like that for his knows how long. Then strong hands pull him up and lightly trace down his waist before disappearing completely.

He's still in a daze when he looks behind but recognizes Louis from behind and watches as his back gets swallowed by the sea of people surrounding them. He wants to say sorry for the previous, wants to ask him to stay by his side but he gets distracted by a tap on his back. Rebecca and Matt both come up to him, then some ex-contestants, Simon, the other judges, staff members and pretty much anyone they've ever worked with.

They tell him they can still get signed but he isn’t stupid. He knows record deals don’t grow out of nowhere and most definitely don’t go to those finishing third.

 _This doesn’t mean anything,_ they whisper in his ear. _Third place is wonderful_. Or his favorite: _You’re the band who won this competition_. Everyone has a comment to share, there's no silence, not even for a minute.

Then they have to struggle through the Xtra Factor and answer the stupidest questions “Are you guys sad?” Really?! “How do you guys feel now?” Broken. Torn. Devastated. Go figure! But the saddest one is “What's next?” No one dares to answer, instead they all drop their heads thinking about the same thing. School. School. School. School. School.

He's getting so upset he jolts up before the interviewer gets to the “T" in her final thank you speech.

His mum waits for him in the doorway. Gives him a kiss on the forehead and hugs him tight, she knows him all too well. “Sweetie, I'm so proud of you. You have no idea how proud I am.” She kisses his forehead. “When are you--”

He knows she's asking when he's coming home but he cannot even think about that yet. He just wants to be left alone, _craves_ to be left alone. Thankfully, she gets it, gets _him._ “We have to leave now,” she says, not pressuring him any further.

He tries to make his way through the wall of people waiting in the corridor. They stop him for a few nice words and pats on the back.

He appreciates it, he really does, but frankly, he’d sorta prefer to forget about this fiasco but everyone reminds him it _happened_ , that they really got voted out when they were standing in the threshold of the final show.

He walks back inside the studio and sneaks inside, dropping into a seat in the last row, actively making his own heart ache while watching the crew clear up the stage.

It’s just a stage, but it feels like they’re clearing off his future instead.

He feels someone's presence and doesn’t even look up at first, he's so not in the mood. Sneakers come into his vision and the person takes the seat next to him without asking. Great. Another one who hasn't received the memo.

He expects “don't be sad”, “it's not over” or other similarly unwelcome comments but gets none. The person just stays there, unmoving, not talking. Thank god for that. He needs more people like this one in his life. People who know when to shut up.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he hardly notices the hand landing on his knee. Then there's a light squeeze, but only for a moment then the person stands up and leaves.

Harry lifts his head at the loss of contact and looks at the direction the person left.

_Louis._

It was Louis.

He doesn’t know if he should jump for joy for being there or cry until he runs out of tears because he left.

 

*

 

The next morning they’re woken up by a knock. They all groan because they just want to sleep in. They don't have any plans, just to be in a room. Together. Unbothered. It's probably going to be their last few days together. Anyway, what the heck do they want from them? They lost. They already gave two interviews. They don't want to talk about it anymore.

An elder staff member comes in. “Guys, a van will pick you up in an hour, get ready by then. Oh and dress nicely because you're going to Simon's.”

For what, Harry has no idea.

They lost.

This story is over.

Why can't people understand he just wants to be left alone? Maybe he should've joined his family and left yesterday. Maybe he'll call them after he survived this damned meeting and will ask them to pick him up.

He won't, of course. He needs his boys.

But first he has to survive this meeting.

Their room becomes even messier than before, everyone's trying to find some nice and clean(!) clothes they can wear in front of the big boss.

Simon.

He still remembers how Simon had talked to him and how creepy the entire moment was. He doesn’t need that bullshit again. He’s seen enough episodes of this show to know they love taping their tears and he’ll be damned if he allowed Simon to get theirs.

He dresses quickly and spends his remaining time trying to make a list of things that are worse than listening to Simon’s sugarcoated half-hearted compliments. Besides being ran over by a bulldozer and getting tied to the Space Roller for twenty rides he comes up empty-handed.

The van comes and takes them to the office which is surprisingly empty. Where’re the other contestants? He was sure they would all gather together and do whatever the-x-factor-y thing the contestants do after the show is over. Weird.

 

*

 

“Boys. I have good news and bad news.”

“Start with the good one,” Niall says, quickly covering his mouth after realising how loud that came out.

”I believe congratulations are in order,” Simon says and gets up to shake their hands one by one. Harry has to resist rolling his eyes at that. _Is this a fucking joke?_

“Well we lost, so…” Liam trails off.

“Depends on perception, Liam. Did you lose the competition? Yes. Did you lose at life? No. There are so many opportunities waiting for you out there.”

_Can we fucking move on from this cliché bullshit?_

Liam frowns at that. “What do you mean? Will Nicole appear at the door and tell us we’ve got another chance?” Just to demonstrate the ridiculousness of the situation, Liam lifts both of his arms and looks around laughing.

Simon chuckles, it sounds as fake as Harry remembers. “No, the competition really is over, guys.”

Harry can't help it, he actually rolls his eyes this time.

“Matt earned a one million pound record deal by finishing in first place. That really happened,” Simon starts stating the obvious.

He walks behind his chair and leans against it propped up on his elbows.

Everyone follows his movement with bated breath.

Simon just talks and talks. Opportunities, life, hard work, money and Matt’s recording deal. Yadda yadda.

He keeps putting short pauses into his monologue, making them tense up each time, because none of them have the slightest idea what he's on about. Harry would very much appreciate being let off the hook. Right.Fucking.Now.

“I've always thought you have potential.” He smiles and catalogues their faces one by one before going on. “You've worked hard to get here, worked relentlessly even, without complaining once. There was no obstacle you couldn't overcome and I know you’re thinking it's all lost now but maybe there's a chance it's not.” He pauses and looks at Louis briefly. Harry turns towards him and sees Louis clench his jaw tight.

“I made some calls and talked to a couple of friends of mine and...” he stops in his track and looks undoubtedly at Louis again. Harry turns his head just in time to see Louis cast his gaze down.

Simon resumes his pacing around the room. The entire scene reminds Harry of a proud turkey on an animal farm. Or one of Orwell’s pigs. “I spent the last few hours thinking about how I can reward you,” he finishes and Harry doesn’t even register what he said because he’s busy looking at Louis’ slumped shoulders.

Then everything becomes crazy.

“Two million pounds!!” Louis yells.

_Wait what?_

“We're signed!!! We're signed!” Liam jumps up and pulls them all together for a group hug.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! What's the bad news?” Niall asks after they all calm down.

Everyone pauses for a moment because the question is hella valid.

Simon grins. “You’re stuck with me.”

Liam laughs at that. “We don't want to get rid of you. Why would we?” He pats Simon on the back and they all meet again in a group hug.

_Holy fuck, we're getting signed!_

 

*

 

It takes two days to prepare all the paperwork and to meet with the lawyers. It seems, Simon really had some favours to collect.

The car stops in front of a glass building so tall that even though Harry strains his neck, he still can't take the whole building in.

“Welcome to Lawrence & Lawrence.”  A gray haired man wearing a top hat and a navy blue suit greets them with a handshake.

"No rebelling son, I see,” Harry mutters and gets hit in the side by Liam.

“You can laugh all you want when we get back but please behave for now,” Liam mutters through gritted teeth.

Harry pouts.

Tophat leads them up the stairs then a woman takes them to an ornate lobby so big that it could host half of the city. They cross the atrium and step inside the elevator.

“Four,” the woman says out loud and no shit, a number four appears on the display.

From then on they don't even dare to brush their arms against the walls of the elevator, afraid it would scold them.

When they finally reach the fourth floor they all but stumble out, happy to be out of that _thing._

The woman takes them to a double winged door and walks up to the secretary at the desk in front. Harry peeks inside and holy fuck it looks so _official_ like a room where history gets written or treaties are discussed, not where record deals with no-name bands are signed.

He expects a ‘ _Sorry boys, there's been a misunderstanding’_ but it's not coming.

The door bursts fully open and Simon appears. Harry hardly recognises him, because he's wearing a suit jacket instead of the usual grey/white T-shirt. He looks like a proud grandfather standing there.

“Come on in boys,” he smiles.

They all shake hands with him and are led into a room that has a dark wooden table in the center, surrounded by dark brown leather armchairs. Harry's pretty sure the frame with the water lilies on the wall is an original Monet.

Someone lets out a cough.

He turns his gaze from the painting, only now noticing the two men in pristine dark grey suits sitting around the table.

He doesn't have to be told that they're the elder Lawrence and his son Lawrence. He just knows.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” the lawyers say in unison.

Harry looks at his bandmates who also seem to be on edge, standing awkwardly, biting their lips with flushed faces. He stands closer to them and finds himself next to Louis. Always Louis.

“Make yourselves at home, boys,” Simon says, gesturing in the direction of the armchairs. “Take a seat, make yourself comfortable because you're going to be spending a couple of hours here signing those.”

Five set of eyes follow Simon’s hands at the word _those_ and eventually land on ten (!!) huge piles of papers.

_Fucking fuck. Talk about real._

“That’s not a few hours. That's a whole day of reading. I don't think I've ever read this much in my whole life. It's a bloody lexicon,” Niall remarks.

For a moment Harry thinks Niall will be scolded for swearing, but he isn't.

“You have two hours to read through and sign them,” Simon says looking at his watch then back up at them. “Mr Lawrence and his son Matthew here will answer any questions you have,” he steps back and stands almost out of the door before looking at his watch again as if he hadn't just done it ten seconds ago. “Congratulations boys. I wish I could stay but I have a client to meet,” he says apologetically and rushes out of the room.

They all sit down. Louis takes the seat next to his. He swallows down the urge to reach out, his stomach churns from not touching Louis, but he ignores it, he _has_ to. He peers up and sees that Louis sliding one pile towards himself.

_Right._

They all follow suit, and a few moments later each hold a pile big enough to serve as a traverse.

Harry looks around then sneaks a peek at Louis who’s already started skimming through the pages, humming occasionally. Liam, Niall and Zayn also seem to be busy reading.

_Damn._

He takes the first page and tries to read it. Emphasis on tries. He flips to the second, the third, turning the pages dazedly, hoping the next one will be in _English._

It’s not.

The fourth page is entirely covered by bullet points and paragraphs which are followed by subparagraphs, each of them listing exceptions and rules that are turning into sub-subparagraphs and _fuck._

A recording deal is buried in these papers.   

Literally buried.

He doesn't really know what he expected a recording contract to look like, but it sure as hell wasn't _this_ because _this_ might as well be in Russian, he’d understand it just the same. He wonders if he’d recognise his own name written in cyrillic or any of theirs. He once read that the international 'H' is written with a 'G’, so he'd need to look for a Garry. There was definitely no Garry on the papers. How does a cyrillic G even look like? Maybe it's like---

“Any problems Mr...?”

Harry whips his head up at that and looks at the son, Matthew, who examines him with one raised brow.

“S-Styles.” It comes out raspy. He shakes his head no. No problem. He has no fucking problem. Just that they're signing a fucking record deal which is a huge thing on its own and he doesn’t understand shit.

But everything’s peachy.

He turns towards Louis for reassurance then directs his gaze to the lawyers. He clears his throat before he speaks, not trusting his own voice. “What happens if we can't finish it in two hours?”

All the boys perk up in curiosity and look at the men in front of them, seemingly having the same question on their minds.

The elder man tilts his head slowly. “I'm sure two hours will be enough to see what the contract is about,” he frowns. “I understand that Mr Cowell already had a briefing with you about the content.” He pauses for a moment, only continuing after they nod slowly. “It's routine procedure.”

 _Routine procedure._ Harry wants to laugh in his face. _Routine procedure._ Maybe for this man it is. _Routine procedure my ass._

He's pretty sure they didn’t talk about the details. _Two million pounds_ , said Simon. That was all the briefing they had about the contract.

Louis nudges his side lightly and he wants to cry right then and there because Louis still _knows_ him, knows exactly when his head isn't at the right place.

He bites his lip in apology. He needs to concentrate on the _now._

The elder man clears his throat. “You can take your signed contract with you and read it as much as you want, of course.” His smile reminds Harry of Dolores Umbridge’s, only missing the purple porcelain tea set. Maybe he’s hiding it in those cabinets behind him.

“The _signed_ one?” Louis asks in a high pitched voice, brows furrowed.

Harry's glad they're on the same page.

“The signed one worth _two million pounds_ ,” the younger Lawrence speaks.

Louis lets out a tense laugh. “Okay but we need to know what we’re gonna sign and preferably _before_ we do so.”

“A contract,” Matthew starts, popping his pen impatiently. “A generic recording contract. In simple words the label gives you everything you need for recording the albums and in return you make those albums and give your loyalty to the label. Simple as that.”

Harry feels they’re treating them like toddlers who ask too many annoying questions.

Elder Mr Lawrence coughs and nods towards the clock.

One hour has already passed.

Harry should be bothered by it but it isn’t like they have any chance at reading through it all, so he starts signing them. It turns out to be a smart choice because fifteen minutes later elder Lawrence warns them that they have to sign all of the pages.

They go through the whole pile again, making sure there's no page left unsigned.

They ask about a few expressions but the lawyers only answer them by using a whole lot of fancy terms they’ve never heard before. So, it’s not really helpful and they only feel even more confused after.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

They're signed now so it’s all good in the end.

 

*

 

It takes them three hours just to sign, so the fact that they were given two is utterly absurd.

On their way back they sit in the car in complete silence, it’s like they’ve only started to realise what the last few hours meant and they need time to let it sink in.

“Oh god, I'm gonna have to watch Daredevil. I almost forgot.” Niall breaks the silence when they’re finally back at the house. Okay, maybe he already has it sunk in.

“Daredevil? That's like _ancient_ , Nialler,” Louis comments.

“I made a bet with my friends before my audition, they said I would get signed and I lost it, so now I'm gonna enjoy Milla beating the enemy’s arse.”

“You did a bet against yourself?” Zayn asks.

Niall casts his gaze down and scratches the back of his neck. “Well I... just-- don't forget I applied as a solo artist.”

“Well it turned out good at the end didn't it?” Liam asks patting him on the shoulder.

“Daredevil,” Louis mumbles. “You're bloody weird.”

Zayn turns to Louis. “You're not joining?”

“Guessed right, Z! I’m gonna stay out here until you have your little boys’ night. Besides, I'm sure I'll find someone who doesn't watch ancient movies in 2010.”

Turns out that _someone_ is none other than Harry Edward Styles. Not that Harry has anything against watching movies from five years back, it just _happened._ He didn’t plan it or anything, he just didn't want to leave him alone. He also secretly hopes they’ll be able to continue where they left off when Louis got sick but that’s no one’s business, really.

After about two minutes Harry already regrets his decision and craves the warmth of the house. It's fucking cold outside. Even in a coat and a beanie, they’re free prey to the wind and the wicker armchairs aren't shielding them at all. It’s the worst possible setting for serious talks.

Louis sits opposite to him, wrapped in a deep blue ski jacket zipped to the chin and it's still not enough because he’s trembling like a leaf. Harry sighs and goes inside the house. He comes back with a blanket and drops it in Louis’ lap. Louis nods a thank you.

Harry himself snatches a few pillows from the bench and sits on them hoping he won’t freeze his balls off. “It's fucking freezing.” He rubs his palms together and blows air in his cupped hands.

Louis hums in agreement. “I wouldn't refuse a cuppa.”

“I'm gonna make one,” Harry says while getting up. He looks at Louis with a frown, he’s still trembling. “Are you sure you want to stay outside?” Louis nods at that.

Harry shrugs and goes inside.

A few minutes later they're both nursing a cuppa in their laps. Harry uncurls his fingers from the mug before he places it on the table. There’s silence and for once it’s different, like… they’re talking but not talking at the same time. It feels heavy but bearable. Hard to define.

“A contract, a fucking contract,” Louis starts. “I can’t believe it, two days ago we believed we’d lost and now we’re signed. Can you believe it?” Louis laughs. It starts as a whisper but gets louder, his breath visible in the cold.  “A fucking contract! We signed a contract Haz!” He’s yelling and glowing and god, Harry loves seeing him this bubbly. He hasn’t seen him this happy in weeks and it feels like the first ray of sunlight in an awakening forest. “You’re gonna be rich. The boys are gonna be rich. We’re all gonna be fucking rich!”

_What? Since when is being rich so important?_

Louis looks at him expectantly. “Why are you so quiet? Aren’t you happy?”

“Yeah, yeah. I am.” Harry examines his fingers, still red from the hot mug.

“You’re as convincing as any,” Louis scoffs, already sipping his tea.

“It’s just… I’m not.. I..,” Harry stammers, flinching.

Louis lowers his mug in his lap. “You see, Haz, we’re gonna have our own team of spokespeople,” he teases with a smile, eyes a brilliant blue. “They can save us from these situations!” He taps on the armrest and tips his head back, the legs of his chair creaking in the process.

_Wow, he seems to be in a very good mood today._

Harry grabs his mug and laces his fingers around it. _Spokespeople?_ He looks in the direction of the trees, gaze lost far beyond. _Spokespeople._ Louis lost a wheel, rambling so much bullshit that Harry can’t, he can’t. _He can’t._

“Harryyyyyyy,” Louis sings. “I’m bored,” he breathes, mug clinking on the glass table. “Do you think we won’t be bored once we’re rich?”

Harry swears to god Louis is doing it on purpose. He squeezes his eyes tight and when he opens them he keeps his gaze on the trees, not saying a single word. They never acted like _this._

He's getting hit by a ping pong ball. He rolls his eyes. Very mature, Louis.

“Earth to Harry,” Louis chimes, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s raging thoughts.

Harry gulps down his remaining tea and places the mug back on the table. He leans down with a deep sigh to fetch the ball and sits back down. Another ball lands in his lap. He grabs it and cups the balls in his palm. They both know they’re not in it for the fucking money. He wonders if it's too late to join the lads and watch that fucking movie.

Louis scoffs. “Are you gonna answer me?” he asks in a slightly irritated voice.

_Don't let him get to you. Don't let him get to you._

“Come on Haz, this is what we’ve been dreaming about. We signed a two million pound record deal, you're not allowed to be sad today.”

Harry plasters a smile on.

By the looks of it Louis knows it's not genuine. “I don’t get why you’re not happy. You didn’t come here to lose and go home. We didn’t win per se but we got signed. Is this not what you wanted?”

Is this not what he wanted? Yes and no. He certainly didn’t come here to lose and go back to school and he does want a career in music but right now he doesn’t have it in him to jump around in happiness because he has no idea what they’re doing. He has honest to God no idea what _Louis_ is doing. It’s like he completely forgot the talk they had in the music room. Or maybe he didn’t, and this is his version of _not running,_ but if that’s the case then this is spectacularly worse.

Louis is still looking at him with a raised eyebrow but Harry doesn’t know what to say. Well, he does know what to say but it’s obviously not the time and place for that. He can’t really sway the conversation back to their dead love story after this, can he?

Then the door to the balcony opens and Niall saves him from answering. “It’s fucking cold here, why’re ya not inside?”

“Beats me,” Harry mutters. He's pretty sure he doesn't feel his right leg anymore.

“How was Daredevil?” Louis asks ignoring Harry's comment.

“Tommo!! My signed artist friend!” Niall goes up to Louis and hugs him tight. “Daredevil rocked!”

_Are they really going to call each other signed artist friend?_

“Well, hello back my signed artist friend!” Louis opens his arms and Harry’s about to facepalm. They hug then Louis goes inside.

Niall slumps down next to Harry and starts watching him, as in watching him and staying annoyingly quiet. Harry’s pretty sure this is an actual combat tactic to make people break. It seems to work because it’s driving him absolutely crazy. “What?” He snaps.

“You know, you could at least pretend to smile.” Damn his observing skills. “Are you not happy, Haz?”

Harry decides on playing dumb busying himself by cupping one ping pong ball and opening his open palms like a seashell before cupping the ball again. Classic delaying tactic. “With what?”

Niall looks at his hand with a frown, still pushing him. “The contract.”

Harry shrugs. He wishes everyone would read him like Niall does now. Everyone as in Louis, preferably the way he used to before everything went shit. “Maybe I’m not jumping up and down gushing about fame and money, but I’m still happy.”

“Is this about _him_ then?”

 _Crap._ “How did you kn-- ”

“Because everything comes back to him, doesn’t it?”

It does. It does come back to him and that's the problem, that for Harry it comes back to Louis but it seems like Louis has something completely different on the top of his list. “Why did you sign the contract?” He blurts out.

Niall looks at him with a frown. “Are you joking?”

“No, I’m... I’m serious.”

“Okay, uhm… I want to sing. To people. I’m the happiest when I sing… and.. and it looks like it makes people happy so it’s a win-win, you know?” He does know. He feels the same way, always did. “And I felt like I had to try myself and well… it seems to be working out so far.”

“Okay but what comes next?”

“What do you mean by what comes next?”

“After this,” Harry motions between him and Niall with his index finger. “After we leave this competition.”

“Well, we have The X Factor tour.”

“And after that?”

“Whatever you want it to be.” Niall frowns. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to, Haz. We’re going to make every decision together.” His frown deepens. “What are you afraid of?”

And that’s a good fucking question if any. What is he afraid of? Death. Death of his loved ones. Missing out. Losing people. Spiders. Fireworks. The neighbor’s black rottweiler. The liquid man at the X Files. Not sitting on a seat facing the engine. Sandstorms, however he never saw one but he’s scared shitless. Being a disappointment. Not being accepted. Not being enough to fight for. Not being enough to be sat down with and be told he’s not enough. Never being able to lo-- Fuck it. He shrugs. “‘M not afraid.”

Niall only shakes his head. “Talk to him.”

Harry scoffs at that. “‘Cause that’s so easy.”

“But it is. You go up to him and talk to him. Just stop this hot and cold shit you've got going on.”

Niall’s right. They should resolve this once and for all.

“We’re not blind, ya know?” And with that Niall pats him on the shoulder lightly, so lightly that he has to drop his head to hide the fresh tears coming into his eyes.

He only dares to look up when he hears the door close and he's alone again.

 

*

 

“You’re gonna get cold,” Louis whispers from inside.

It takes a few seconds for Harry’s brain to register that Louis is actually talking to him.

He lifts his head in Louis’ direction and has to squint. When did it get this dark? “Oh… I uhm.. Yeah, I’m going inside in a minute. Yeah.” He waits for Louis to leave, he _expects_ him to leave, got quite _used to_ him leaving to be honest.

But Louis doesn’t go; he’s still rooted at the door. “Hey, uhm.. you’re happy, right?” he asks.

Harry just stares at him without even answering. He clears his throat. “Yeah, just... a bit scared.”

“That’s normal. We all are,” Louis adds gently. “It’s gonna work out okay? You’ll look back a year from now and you’ll laugh at this.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Where will _you_ be a year from now, he wants to ask but he doesn't. He's too selfish to get that soft smile off Louis’ face.

“Everyone will know who Harry Styles is,” Louis teases.

“Yeah they’re gonna make sculptures of me,” Harry rolls his eyes but plays along, only to keep seeing that smile, because he missed it, hasn’t had it directed at him in ages and he’s hungry for it.

“You don’t believe it? You’re gonna be a star, you know?”

_When you become a busy star touring the world I can say I have your first ever autograph._

The memory hits him hard like a freight train. That's what Louis told him when they first met, how big of a star he would be, always believed in him, from day one. Even now when they-- when they what? When they finally talk? When Harry pretends Louis is only a friend? When Louis pretends he actually cares about him? Why does he care? What fucking right does he reserve to care? How dare he say something he had told him when they had every chance to be something, every chance to be each other’s person? Why does he suddenly want to talk to him now of all times when they signed that fucking contract when he was happy looking through him like a ghost for weeks? What in the everloving fuck is he thinking?

Harry knows he should give him some time, maybe then he’ll realise he’s talking crap with the fame-money bullshit. It's driving him insane and he wants to tell him that, but what they have now is too important.

He simply doesn't want to risk anything with an argument so he swallows it all down. It’s probably not the healthiest way of dealing with it but after weeks of nothing they’re finally _something_ and he’s happy with the status quo.

“Just-- come inside before you get sick.”

He _has_ to be.

“Okay.”

Maybe if he repeats it more he’ll actually believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know I know.. I know _BUT_ maybe you will not want to miss the next chapter... Just saying.  
>  What did you think of this one? Did your heart break once or twice? Share your thoughts if you'd like to.  
> <3  
> See you next Friday!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10/13 yeyyy! One of my favorite chapters :) hope you'll love it as much as I do.
> 
> Oh and one more thing: this is the chapter which contains that one sentence which gave the whole idea of this fic. Can you guess it at the end? :)

“Okay so here’s the deal,” Simon says through the speakerphone.

“A recording deal, you mean?” Niall asks cheerily.

“One that we signed?” Zayn joins.

Simon laughs at that. Harry's pretty sure he hasn't heard him smile as much as these past few days. “I see you’re way too distracted to pay attention but listen. I’ve arranged that you can stay in the house until Friday just to have you all in the city if there’s anything missing.”

“What else could be possibly missing? It’s signed, isn’t it?” Louis asks in a high-pitched voice.

“When it comes to a lot of paperwork like the five of you signing a contract, there's a chance something is missing, maybe a page, a signature or something. The lawyers are currently looking into that.”

“I’m pretty sure we signed all of them. Apart from me the Lawrences also checked,” Liam adds matter-of-factly and Harry can only nod, even though Simon can’t see him. Liam _did_ check all the papers.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” Simon sing-songs. “I got to go now, but make sure you enjoy the next couple of days and then if we won’t meet each other, enjoy your break, you worked hard, you deserve it. See you on tour!”

They all say goodbye and Liam disconnects the call, one finger on the mute button making sure he won't hear them. “That was weird,” he says.

Niall laughs at that. “When is he not weird?”

“I really hope the contract isn't invalid,” Louis says biting the inside of his cheek.

“Can he do that?” Liam asks, eyes wide.

Zayn shrugs. “He’s Simon. I’m pretty sure he can do anything.”

 

*

 

The contract is finalised, all signatures are where they should be, no complications, no extra meetings needed and after months of relentless working they can finally relax.

For the first time they’re the ones in control which is pretty amazing. They spend a lot of time outside and when the temperature becomes unbearably cold, the common room is the best place to warm up.

They’re all outside sitting in the wicker chairs now, each with a blanket nestled in their laps. It looks like the intimate setting makes people open up as they’ve been talking about anything and everything, sharing stories they haven’t shared before, only a fire pit is missing from the middle, really. Liam talks about his childhood struggles, then Zayn is halfway through his own story when Niall’s phone rings.

He takes the call and Harry figures he’s discussing flight options back home. What a stupid topic. You see, Harry has actively refused thinking about leaving the safety of this place and couldn't care less about means of transportation that can take him home. He's not… it's not about not wanting to visit home because of course he is but that home is Louis-less and he's used to spending every day relatively close to him. So going away for a two week break to a house with no Louis inside… well, you see Harry hasn't figured out yet how to live his life with that piece of information so the coward he is like he buries it deep down.

“Mum, I’m-- yeah but--- but then I--  okay then choose whatever,” Niall replies with an eye roll after nearly five minutes. It seems the always chill Niall does have an Achilles heel and his mum owns the unique ability to make him uncharacteristically upset.

“Do you think we’ll have our own assistants doing that for us in the future?” Liam asks.

The smile disappears from Harry’s face immediately. What kind of question is this?

“I think we'll have the chance to hire assistants for everything,” Zayn adds.

Harry frowns at that. “Why does it matter if we’ll have them or not?”

Zayn shrugs. “Well, it would be nice if we had them. Don’t you think Louis?”

Louis looks at Zayn like a deer in the headlights and shakes his head mouthing something that looks like _no_ or _don’t_ , Harry’s not sure. He frowns and turns towards Zayn and catches him lift an eyebrow at Louis.

“Yeah, I reckon I wouldn’t be opposed to having them,” Louis replies.

Harry’s frown deepens. “I don’t care if we won't get any. I’m okay doing things myself.”

“You say that now.” Liam says.

He turns towards Liam angrily. “What does that mean? I really am okay doing things myself,” he adds and contemplates just leaving them here.

At that, Liam turns towards Louis and looks at him pointedly. Louis directs his eyes to the ground and starts fidgeting.

Okay _, what the fuck is going on here._

“I’m not saying you aren't but it’ll be a nice plus. Like the money. And the fact that people will know us.” Liam says.

“Yeah, like we could be on covers and all that shit. We already have so many screaming fans, the crowd could double, triple or get even bigger. Wouldn’t it be nice?” Zayn adds.

“Imagine being so rich that we could buy everything we ever wanted,” Liam says dreamily. “like-- I'm not saying we will be but we could be and if we're gonna be famous enough then we’re gonna be soooo bloody rich.”

Zayn laughs out loud, in an obnoxious way. Harry would laugh with him if he wasn’t busy asking himself what the actual fuck was funny in that.

He shakes his head in disbelief at him. “What’s so funny?”

“What do you mean?” Zayn replies as if it was the most normal thing in the world and tilts his head towards Liam.

Harry just looks between the two and shakes his head in frustration. “Why are you saying this crap again?”

“Saying what? Did you not see the contract we signed? Two million pounds, Harry, two million pounds!!!” Zayn practically yells and Liam laughs out loud.

That’s it. That’s fucking it.

Harry turns towards Louis. “Why’re you not speaking up?”

Louis looks at him with eyes wide in surprise. “Speaking up about what?”

Harry motions towards them. “This. This shit.”

Louis raises one eyebrow at him as if asking if he’s lost a wheel.

Harry sighs. “You’re just sitting there letting this-- this _thing_ go. Why? You've never been like this, you always loathed when people talked like this, but now you're just letting it happen? What’s wrong with you?” He snaps and it's like he's on autopilot when he jolts up, almost knocking the chair off.

“We’re just talking, mate. Chillax.” Niall hugs him and pats him on the back and okay, fair point. Maybe he does need to chill. God knows he's been on the edge for long enough.

He snatches the two ping pong balls from his chair and sits his arse down trying to tune them out for as long as he can. It works for a minute or so. Then they start talking about places to visit when they're _rich._

“Bora Bora,” Zayn starts.

“Chile,” Niall joins.

It’s Louis’ turn then. “Easy. The Maldives. Haz?”

“Money... It’s not _everything._ ” Harry whispers, dropping his head against the headrest. He can recall at least two times when he talked with Louis about how singing was their passion when they hid under the blanket with a bloody flashlight. Singing. Not money. Not the perks. Singing. It was only a few months ago, surely he remembers that?

“Earth to Haz. Pick an island.” Louis asks.

“It doesn’t _have_ to be an island, if he wants soil it can be that too.” Liam comments.

“Island is soil,” Niall corrects him.

“Whatever, just pick,” Liam mumbles.

Louis turns back at Harry and looks at him expectantly, seemingly so unbothered, _so oblivious_ that it starts to really rub Harry the wrong way. So Harry the stubborn arse he is decides not to reply.

Louis snorts at that and shakes his head. He keeps looking at Harry, eyes dark blue like the restless waves at midnight. “We're just talking about dreams. You sure can join. Having plenty yourself.”

“No, you're talking about money.”

“Because it comes with it!”

“You're talking _explicitly_ about money!”

“And that bothers you why?”

“Because. It's. Not. Everything!” Harry grits out.

“How can you say that?! We alI know you want this.”

“Of course I do, I would've never signed those papers if it was otherwise but--”

“In fact, I know you’ve _always_ wanted this. You put your signature on the contract the same way as we did.”

“I've _always_ wanted this? Why are you saying it like that?”

“I saw the videos.”

Harry has no fucking idea what Louis is blabbering about.

“The videos.” Louis challenges with a pointed look, as if demanding him to admit it.

Harry can only frown in confusion.

Louis lets out a heavy sigh as if jumping into an hour-long explanation about _obvious_ things like Harry Styles liking fame would tire him out.

Well, Harry doesn’t care if it tires him out because he really wants to hear this, considering it holds no truth whatsoever. He looks around to find some allies because for sure he's not the only one thinking Louis’ lost a wheel or two but it seems everyone sneaked inside.

Great. He's going to have this fight alone then.

He puts his hands under his chin and looks at Louis expectantly.

Louis sighs again. “I saw six year old Harry Styles talking about wanting to be a singer.”

That's it? “And?”

“You know, you looked at the camera with the brightest shining eyes and it was a low quality amateur home video, probably made by your mum--”

“And?”

“And even through those pixels it was so clear this is what makes you happy.”

 _What does that have to do with this? With us? Did he-- Okay, fuck being calm._ “Do you even hear yourself? I was fucking six years old!”

“Exactly H! You were only six and you already knew what you wanted! I didn’t know shit at six, you know? But you had this dream! That little kid was so confident that this is what he wanted.”

“What the f-- what are you referring to with this? Everything was because of my dream? You _left_ me because of my dream?!”

“Haz, I never wanted to destroy that. Who the hell am I to take that from the little boy, from _you_?! I would cut my own hand off if I took that from you!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry snarls on a mocking tone. “You're not taking anything away from me! I’m living my dream because I can sing. Hell, we were just signed!” He holds on the ping pong ball so tight that his nails dig into his palm.

“Exactly, that's what I'm talking about and now you can be and do anything you want because we’ve been signed!”

Harry releases a humorless laugh. “You think so?”

“Of course!” Louis exclaims. “And if you ever find yourself in a situation where you have to pick, I want you to choose your dream. Never settle. Your dreams should always come first, Harry.”

“You want me to choose my dream?” Harry stands. The balls fall bouncing with a pop-pop-pop on the balcony.

“Yes!” Louis replies sternly.

Harry stands straighter and takes a confident step ending up in front of Louis. “Then here I am. Choosing my dream.”

A deep frown starts to crease between Louis’ eyebrows. “What do you mean?” He stands up, not taking the height difference well.

“You don’t understand, do you?” Harry sighs but Louis just looks at him, confusion clearly written on his face.

Harry will fucking tattoo it on his forehead if that's what it takes for him to finally get it.

“I fucking love you!” Harry blurts out.

There. He said it.

Time stops. Everything stops and Harry can’t move.

People say that when colossal, life-altering moments happen you become a spectator of your own life. You zoom out and see yourself looking at your significant other with mouth agape, you see them take a stumbling step back as if the words thrown at them were the most unexpected thing that can happen. You watch from above as your love’s chest rises and falls irregularly from the heavy panting. Then you listen more closely and realise that the loud thumping and pantless breaths have been coming from you all along. It feels like being in a space helmet, where air is scarce even though your lungs crave for it. You see your lover wait for one heartbeat or two and you know you should say something but your lips feel superglued and your legs feel like jelly.

The more you look at them the more blurry they become, your hearing weakens.  Noises start to fade away until the deafening silence can only be disturbed by the sound of your own loud and erratic breathing and the only thing you can hear is your own heart beating in your ears. Thump _thump thump_.

Some describe it as having an out of body experience, some say it's shock. Whatever it's called, it’s big and it’s the moment when it all comes crashing down on you.

Semmingly crashing down on Louis.

He takes a hurried step back, his hands drop from Harry’s shoulders like he’s been burned.

Harry instinctively reaches out to him but he's already out of reach.

Louis looks at him as if he's seen a ghost, eyes glazed, lips trembling, as if the words got stuck inside. “Wha-- you love me?”

“Dammit!” Harry grunts pursing his lips.

Louis flinches at that.

 _Fuck._ Harry quickly elaborates. “I didn't. I mean.. I... I didn't want to tell you like this, not in the middle of an argument but what’s out is out. I do, I love you!”

Louis shakes his head.

“Don’t you dare shake your head at me!”

Louis stops, takes a deep breath and his expression changes from incredulous to determined so quickly that Harry thinks he made up the whole thing. Maybe he did.

Louis takes one more step back. Harry knows the next step will have him plastered against the wall. He wonders if he’d risk falling off the balcony just to get away from him.

“How can you say that you love me when my mere presence is fucking up the dream you always chased?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry closes the distance with two steps.

“Me being here, with you, is what takes your future away, Harry!”

“Tell me what kind of future it is then? Money, fame, success? How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t fucking care about any of that?”

Louis scoffs. “Not just money! But singing and stage and happy fans and recognition!”

“But I’m getting all of that regardless of us being together or not! You know, this doesn’t make any bloody sense. You’re saying you left me because you wanted to give me my dream but fuck Louis. I’m still here. Living my dream and you’re here as well, living yours but not with me. Where's the logic in that?”

Louis closes his lids and tips his head down to hide his reddened cheeks. His face reflects the same thing as it did for the last two weeks. Harry knows that expression all too well.

 _Secrets_.

He had enough of them, thank you very much. He needs answers. And he needs them now. “There's something you’re not telling me. I'm not stupid.. I just... What are you hiding Louis?”

Louis walks up to the coffee table and picks up his mug, its content almost sloshes out when he presses it to his lips. He sits back in his chair and holds the mug in front of his chest like a shield. “Harry, just.” He shakes his head slowly and whispers so quietly that Harry has to lean forward to hear it. “Just go. Please. I can’t do this. Fuck!” Louis bolts upright and is about to leave when Harry reaches out and grabs his elbow to stop him.

Harry can hear the mug breaking and looks down for a bit to see the remnants of the tea splashed on the tiles.

He lifts his gaze back on Louis and takes a careful step forward. “But I don’t wanna go.” His voice sounds as broken as his heart.

Louis yanks his elbow away. “Why? Why stay? Why stay when everyone fucking leaves?!”

“Do I look like I’m about to leave?” Harry asks, eyes trailed on Louis. He slides his hand down Louis’ arms and starts rubbing circles onto his knuckles. “Is this what you really think?” he adds softer this time.

Louis pulls away. “Does it matter what I think?”

Harry looks at him hurt beyond belief. “Of course it does!”

“Why?” Louis spits out.

“Because you're worth it, goddammit! Because you’re generous and loving and kind and caring, you’re the best person I’ve ever met and I hate that you don’t see it yourself! I hate that you’re giving up on us because you were left by two people in your life. I’m sorry it happened but I'm not them, okay? I can’t change what they did, Lou, I can’t change the past.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Then what do you want? Because what I gave you was obviously not enough.”

“Don’t say that.”

Harry scoffs. “Are you being serious? You didn't even look at me for weeks. Weeks, Louis!”

“I know.” Louis says quietly.

“I didn't deserve that! I didn't deserve to be ignored. I’m… Fuck, Louis… Didn’t I make it clear enough that I was _all in_ , that I was as invested in this as you were? In _us_?”

Louis flops down on the chair again. “It’s not about that.”

“What is it about then?“

“It isn’t about _that._ ”

“Then what is it about?

“Harry,” Louis scolds him as if he’s a fucking five year old.

Harry fists his hand. This is… it’s getting too much. “Why did you walk away from us then?” he asks, voice hoarse.

Louis jumps up from his chair and starts pacing around like a madman.

Harry goes to stand in front of him caging him in, and Louis takes a step back, colliding with the wall.

Harry closes the distance and stands so close to him that the edges of their shoes touch. He hauls Louis up against the wall, there's some desperate force in it, but it's enough that they’re up close, in each other’s space, so close that he can feel Louis’ breath against his own skin.

Louis begins to struggle in his hold, squirms like his life depended on escaping, but there's no real force behind it. Not like it matters because Harry’s so not letting him run away. His fingers grip his wrist to stop him from fighting because honestly, he just wants peace, wants to stop this madness but then Louis twists his arms in an angle that it must hurt, and Harry lets it go. Reluctantly but he does.

Louis scurries to the other end of the balcony. Harry can only watch him with disbelief. _What are you running from?_ Harry's no fucking expert but even he knows it's not normal to be alone with such a burden. He wants him to not just stand there hunched and broken, shrinking into a shadow of himself.

But most of all he wants to talk because it's been going on like this for almost two weeks and he's tired. Scratch that. He wants _more._ He wants him not to give up. He wants him to fight for them.

“You know, I’m getting so fucking tired of this. You’re finally here in the same room, but you’re as good as being a fucking continent away because you’re still shutting me out!”

Louis whips his head up at him, eyes alert, mouth opening to speak but nothing comes out.

Harry trots down to him, careful not to touch him this time, even though the urge to do so is causing physical pain.

“Did you do it because you don’t feel anything for me?” Harry knows it's dumb to ask; it's like locking himself in the lion’s cage  and throwing the key away. He knows it's not a smart move but he _has_ to know. This is the moment he's been waiting for all this time and he won't back down now. He _can't_.

Louis remains motionless. He stays like that for a few beats then shakes his head slowly, the movement barely there.

But it’s _there._

Harry’s breath hitches.

He steps between Louis’ legs and cups his jaw tilting his head up, eyes never leaving his as he speaks. “You still do,” he's almost asking it, disbelief settling in his stomach because despite loving him Louis still decided to leave him. “Then what's this money and fame crap? Do you think I’d-- come on Lou, you know me. Please.” He pauses for a second. “Don’t you understand? If this band fails and we won’t have this luxury anymore and we’ll have to move in a one-bedroom apartment in the crappiest quarter of London and we wouldn’t have a fucking penny to save up, I’d still be the happiest because I would be with you. I’ve been planning my everything with you in it, Lou!”

Louis stumbles back, head hitting the wall with a low thump.

Harry’s hands fall helplessly as Louis’ face is out of reach.

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers.

“Of course I’m telling the truth!” Harry doesn’t even care that he sounds exasperated.

“Oh my god.” Louis grabs the wall behind him as if looking for support. His body slides down against it until he's sitting crouched on the floor.

He mumbles something.

Harry can’t really figure out what it is. He crouches down, and looks desperately at the breaking boy in front of him.

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers. “You were not supposed to--”

“I was not supposed to do what? Tell me please,” Harry urges, taking Louis’ hands gently in his.

Louis glances up at him, expression broken, ocean blue eyes swimming in tears. “ _He_ told m-me I... But you. You didn’t--” he stammers, chin trembling. He clenches his fist tearing his hands away from Harry’s hold. “Fuck!”  

“Who told you to do what?” Harry's literally begging now.

“Si-mon.”

Bile rises up Harry’s throat at the mere mention of Simon’s name and his heart rate quickens its pace. _Simon_. “Oh my god Lou. What did he tell you?”

A shudder goes through Louis’ body before he turns away from Harry, shrinking much smaller, hugging himself while leaning back and forth.

Simon’s name being mentioned makes Harry search his memory, frantically flipping back all the events until now, hunting for that one missing piece that will finally complete the picture. His mind ends up playing the events of the night before everything changed: _You’ll be a star Harry Styles_. Melanie picking Louis up, Louis disappearing for hours then giving him these snippy flippant remarks, Louis starting to pull away---

He finally gets it.

He finally has an idea of what happened because the same talk occurred to him as well before the live shows started. It was such a tiny throwaway comment that Harry could only laugh at it and never mentioned it to anyone. _Forgot_ about it eventually.

Until now.

 _Oh fuck_.

The fucker went to Louis and who knows what kind of twisted sick lies he told him.

“Babe, whatever he told you it wasn't true.” He doesn’t even care that the pet name slipped out. He launches himself at Louis and collides their bodies in a tight hug. At first Louis just sits there, hands clenching his own chest as if not allowing himself to touch, but Harry doesn’t let go, not this time.

Never again.

“Look at me.”

“No.” Louis gets out of Harry’s grip and turns to face the wall.

“Please look at me,” Harry demands this time.

He waits patiently until Louis slowly turns back and looks at him with glistening eyes, a lone teardrop making its way down his cheek in a sick race.

Harry lifts one hand to wipe it off before cupping Louis’ face. “Lou, Simon requested this, didn’t he?” Harry grits his teeth, Louis can only nod in lieu of an answer. “ _Demanded_ you called it off with me.” It isn’t even a question.

There's another nod against his hand.

“Listen to me. Whatever he told you, he lied.“

Louis is avoiding eye contact again. Harry can’t allow that, not anymore. He brushes Louis’ fringe out of his eyes. “I need you to tell me what happened,” he says firmly and patiently like mothers do when their kids are distressed. “Baby, can you stand up and walk with me?”

Louis nods and Harry laces their fingers tightly.

They walk through the backyard in complete silence. When they're inside they quickly get rid of their winter clothes and loiter upstairs. Their steps are out of sync and the only thing linking them is their joined hands, but their hold is rock solid.

It's promising, Harry thinks. It gives him hope that they can get through this, whatever this is, even if the air feels heavy and tense.

Their room is empty, thank god. Thank the _lads._ Harry sits down on his bed, cross legged, Louis does the same on the far end. Harry frowns, already hating the distance.

“Will you please tell me what he told you?” he asks calmly and stretches his leg so it’s touching Louis’. He can't bear not touching him.

Louis takes a deep breath, his pulse is visibly racing through the veins in his neck. “The band or us.”

Harry scoots closer to him and brushes his thumb on his leg. “And you chose the band.” He speaks calmly.

“I chose _your_ future instead of us.”

“Why?”

“He said I was a risk when it came to the band’s future.”

“But that's no---”

“I knew you wouldn't understand it.”

Harry leans forward, so close that their noses almost touch. “Make me then.”

Louis starts fidgeting but says nothing. He lets his fight go when Harry lifts his chin gently. Trust _me please_.

Louis doesn’t turn away, but he still doesn't talk.

Harry wants to run into a wall. “Trust me Louis!!”

Louis breaks out of his hold and Harry finds him standing near the window, back to him. “I’m a fuck up,” he blurts out, voice barely audible.

“Wha-”

“They don't even know what my voice sounds like,” he mumbles, nails scratching the window sill.

“Lou.” Harry's heart lurches at the thickness deepening Louis’ voice.

Louis turns back to him. His face mirrors so much desperation and pent up pain that Harry's heart clenches at the sight. “I'm in a singing competition and I'm not even singing!" He’s on the brink of tears and fuck, Harry never saw him cry before. Always Harry was the crier, Louis was much stronger. So much stronger. Even when they lost The X Factor, he didn't cry. Now at the sight Harry's own heart is breaking in two. "I pray every week to get a line. Something, anything, just one fucking line Harry! But I never do.”

Harry wants to pull him in his lap but he can't do that yet. He's finally talking and he'd be damned if he stopped him now.

“We got through the Judges’ Houses without me singing a fucking line! We're here thanks to the four of you! Why am I here, then? You don't need me here!” Louis raises his hands exasperatedly. “All I am is a cheeky arsehole and I’m just holding you all back, I know that. You know how every band needs a clown. That's my role h-here, that's why I-- it's why I was chosen.”

He thumbs the tears away angrily. “I’m not good enough to sing, I’m not good enough to have you because apparently me being gay is fucking it all up. I’ll never amount to anything, that’s what people said and they were bloody right! Everything I touch breaks into a million fucking pieces! Every fucking thing!”

Harry finds himself in Louis’ face in two seconds.

“This is bullshit!” He pokes his fingers in Louis’ chest. “No one cares as much as you do! You think we don't see it?" He's practically spitting the words out, he's so angry at everyone who's ever put these thoughts in Louis' head, wants to hunt them down one by one and he will. He'll find a way. But first, Louis has to understand, he _has to_ understand! "You're making a fool out of yourself, that's what you were saying, right? Well, yes, sometimes you are doing that."

"I kno--"

"No. You don't know," Louis' eyes widen at that. "Because you're making a fool out of yourself when you want to ease the tension, like when you wanted to get Niall’s mind off his claustrophobia in the elevator! Do you think that's the same as being a clown? God, Lou you're not a clown and you never were! You don't believe it? Then tell me why are you the one speaking up when the choreo is stupid or when there's a dumb song choice? Why are you the one talking during interviews?"

Louis bites his lip and looks at him with a _that's not fair_ look. Boy is he wrong. Harry is good at playing unfair and if that's what it takes for Louis to understand, then he'll become a fucking legend at playing dirty.

"You know perfectly well that all of us are shitting our pants when it comes to interviews. That's why you take the lead and answer those stupid questions. You stand up for us. Defend us. Protect us. How can you not see it?"

"You're painting me as a saint but I'm not perfect, Harry. Far from it."

"I know that, none of us are. But you've done a lot for us and you can't deny that. You sat down with Liam for the band's sake and talked through your differences. I'd call that a pretty brave move. And don't think I didn't realise that you played pretend burglar with me just to get my mind off the stage fright!! You were always there for us, for me until---”

Harry has to stop himself to calm his breathing. "What I'm trying to say is... without you... Lou, without you we'd be nowhere."

Louis drops his head down but Harry can't have that. He lifts Louis' chin because he needs to see reaction settle in his favourite blue eyes.

“You’re the one who made it _all_ happen! Without you we would be four strangers thrown into a competition. Do you really think you’re the clown? You do have a great sense of humour but it's not everything you are! And if you opened your eyes for a moment you would see that everyone’s in love with you: your family _adores_ you, the band would be _nothing_ without you! And Simon saw this."

At the mention of Simon's name Louis' face contorts in pain.

Harry starts to draw soothing circles on his knuckles. "Simon knows how much you’re capable of! Why do you think he came to you in the first place? You think he would waste his precious time on fuckups, Lou?" He waits for a few beats for Louis to react but all he does is bite his lips. Okay that's a start, at least he's not protesting anymore. Harry can work with that.

"He went to you because you’re the heart of this band! You're the glue that keeps us together and you're strong, you're so fucking strong Louis! I wish you saw yourself like I see you, like we all see you. I bet Simon thought you're too strong for his liking and wanted to weaken you, he wanted to knock you out and kept throwing bullshit at you until he found the one that sticks! Whatever he made you believe it's not true, it's not true, Louis!”

Louis stares with wide eyes and parted lips, completely frozen in his spot.

Harry combs his fingers through his curls and there’s silence again. _Not again, jeez_. “Do something! Say something Louis or I swear to god I--!”

“I didn't know!” Louis yells. “I didn’t even think you would choose _me!_ If I had known I-- but I didn't and I fucked up, I fucked up the one thing that mattered to me the most. I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you! Jesus Christ I fucking hurt you, Harry! Why are you even here?”

Louis locks their gazes and Harry patiently waits for him to continue, but he seems reluctant. “I know you want me to say something but I don’t know what to say. What the fuck should I say, Haz? That I left you because I love you? Who the fuck leaves someone they lo--?”

Louis is full on sobbing now and Harry crashes into him and hugs him right. He buries his head in the crook of Louis’ neck and splays his open palm on his back, the pad of his fingers digging into his t-shirt. When Louis calms down a bit he shuffles back, but Harry takes his pinkie because he can't bear the thought of not touching him.

Louis continues. “I’ve asked myself the same thing over and over again. I knew it would hurt but.. but cutting you off seemed the best option. It didn't matter that I was hurt as long as... as long as you were happy. But then we signed the contract, I thought that's what you wanted but... but you weren't happy. Why were you not happy? You were supposed to jump around and yell that you did it but you didn't and I... I feel played and betrayed by him and I want to rip my bloody heart out for taking his bait! I-- I’ll never forgive myself for it.” Louis croaks out before he pulls his pinkie from Harry. Harry moves after him.

“You shouldn’t even be here Harry. Why are you here?” He starts punching Harry in the chest. Harry just lets him, it doesn't hurt one bit. What really hurts is the sadness and desperation veiling Louis’ eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck I should do!” Harry grabs his wrist gently. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t fucking know Harry.” Louis whispers brokenly.

Harry's heart breaks into thousand pieces, he pulls Louis in and buries his head into his neck. “Shhhh.”

He takes Louis’ damp, still trembling hands in his and looks into his eyes while thumbing his tears away softly. “This is what got us here. You believing that you’re alone and that you have to fight this alone. But that’s so not the case! _You_ don’t have to do anything, _we_ can do something, all of us!” He cups Louis’ cheeks between his hands, and thumbs the last drop of tears from his eyelashes. “You have the boys, your family, you have every person in this house wrapped around your little finger and you have me. Because even if you don’t believe me, I’d very much love to be with you. If you let me.”

A fresh wave of tears starts to trickle down Louis’ cheeks. “I want that. God I want that. You.” his voice breaks off. “So much.”

Harry caresses the skin under Louis’ eyes gathering as many tears as he can.

Louis leans into his touch, eyes closed, chest rising and falling with his heavy pants. His body goes completely pliant against Harry's.

Harry rests his forehead against his, not bearing the thought of seeing him this broken. “I believe in us, you know?” He whispers. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but I think we could be worth it.”

Louis flicks his eyes open. “You’re worth it.”

Harry frowns. “You are too,” he retorts without missing a beat, because goddammit, Louis has to understand that he matters. He matters _so much._

They stay in the embrace, Harry enjoying the feeling of their touch, the familiarity of holding Louis is back as if it never went away; the smell of citrus aftershave, long rehearsals, the fresh winter air and _Louis_. The feeling of _what if_ comes crashing down on him now that they're both in each other's arms again. They cry and chuckle at the same time, tears of sadness mix with tears of joy.

“You know no one ever told me that,” Louis whispers, more serious.

“Told you what?” Harry has to think a bit to recall what Louis is referring to. When he remembers it he pulls away to look at Louis’ face. “That you’re worth it?”

Louis only nods.

“But you are. Believe me, you are.” He pulls Louis in by the waist, and Louis is so close now that Harry can't resist, he's alternating between staring at his eyes and lips. “Can I kiss you, please I want to kiss you.” He breathes out.

“God yes, please,” Louis replies brokenly.

Harry swoops down to nuzzle their noses together and presses himself to Louis softly, lips barely touching the pink of his. They remain pressed together, trembling from the feelings, from the anticipation. He wants to go slow, wants to stay gentle. Both of them are aware that this is going to be their first kiss in weeks and even though they’ve kissed a hundred times before, they know this will be different. He breathes in deeply and almost stumbles from feeling Louis everywhere, overwhelmed by having Louis again.

An hour or maybe only seconds pass when their lips start to move. Harry feels a teardrop trickle down his own cheek because he thought he lost _this_ , he thought he'd never be kissed like this, with _love_ , by _Louis_. He holds the back of Louis’ head and gives him small gentle kisses while his fingers trace lightly along his neck.

The featherlight kisses aren't enough, no matter how much he missed him all he feels is _needneedneed_. He never _needed_ anything as bad as now, but tries to hold back, knows he _has_ to hold back. As much as he wants to savor him he knows he can’t, not yet, they’ve just had the most serious and most adult conversation of their lives and it was exhausting and so much shit has been revealed, insecurities and fears Harry didn’t even know Louis had, so he doesn’t rush the kiss, allows Louis to set the pace, not wanting more than he does.

He teases Louis’ bottom lip softly and slowly with the tip of his tongue which seems to be a good idea because Louis moans into it and begins kissing him with more fervor.

Harry responds by pushing him against the bedpost.

So much for going slow.

Louis isn’t one to wait for orders, in fact, his fingers can’t seem to decide on what to touch first. He’s alternating between exploring Harry’s back, his waist, then grabs his arse just to release it with a light squeeze.

Harry swears he can see stars.

He pulls Louis in his lap to be more comfortable and Louis drapes his legs across his without missing a beat. They work like a well oiled machine, even though no user manual was ever shared with them, it’s like muscle memory, even after these tense weeks they just _click_ , like they belong together, like they _always_ did.

Harry runs his fingers through Louis’ nape slowly and holds the back of his neck before he leans forward and drops a few smacking kisses on his jaw.

Louis tips his head back giving him more access.

Harry doesn’t hesitate and runs his tongue along his collarbones and bites at the skin so hard that Louis whimpers into it.

Harry releases him by licking the throbbing pain away. His hands travel down to Louis’ waist and they start grinding against each other. Soon the air feels scarce, their jeans too tight, pathetic needy moans fill the still quiet room. He feels Louis’ hard-on in no time and he's pretty sure his own bulge is prominent even through his jeans.

He grabs Louis’ arse and squeezes it hard. Louis grunts. He missed that voice, missed the sounds a single touch can cause.

Harry doesn't know when they laid down, he only realises that Louis is on top on him when he feels his hands in Louis’ tight grip before they're being pinned on the bed.

They stay like that, their lower parts grinding, their gazes locked, breathing ragged, lips hung open, eyes searching something in each other's. Harry catalogues every freckle, every constellation, the messy fringe, the dilated pupils and his flushed face. He focuses so much on Louis that he can see the exact moment Louis’ eyes turn serious.

“Haz... ahhh… Harry, we have… we need to... stop.” Louis’ voice cracks, his stutter is adorable, like he's unable to form coherent sentences.

In a way Harry's thankful that Louis pulled back because he's afraid he wouldn't have been able to leave this bed without having him. This is so much more than having physical contact, they're much more than two teenagers getting off, they're actual adults who finally talked and have a whole lot of talking to do. It's like this intimate moment would feel tainted if they ended up getting off.

Louis pulls him up in a sitting position, closer, impossibly closer and melts their bodies together. He drops his head on Harry’s shoulder, pressed together so closely that Harry can feel Louis’ heart hammering against his own chest.

They hold onto each other in a tight embrace. The entire room is quiet except for their ragged breaths. The air feels heavy, it holds the weight of the unsaid and undone. There are so many words unspoken, so many talks to come.

Their hearts are broken but healing.

Harry can only hope they can get through it.

 

*

 

They lay next to each other, only disrupted when the boys’ voices are heard, even before they enter the room.

Louis immediately pulls away and untangles himself.

Harry can’t say it doesn’t hurt but he tries to swallow the lump in his throat because he can see that Louis is genuinely panicking.

“Hey Haz,” Liam greets him. “Louis,” he adds when he registers they're in the same bed. He sends a smile to Harry who nods back silently.

Louis jumps up from the bed and scurries to the middle of the room, frantically turning his head between Harry and his own bed.

He takes a tentative step towards Harry’s bed, but shakes his head and walks to his own and flops down on it.

Harry sighs. This is a first. They never hid from the lads.

Maybe that’s the price to pay for not discussing things, maybe they should’ve used their time more wisely than for kissing, and maybe Harry should've expected the weirdness. After all, they haven't cleared up what happened, haven't discussed the why’s or how they can avoid it from ever happening again.

He knows that's one of many talks to come but one thing they never did is to hide from the lads and frankly, the boys catching them hugging doesn’t mean that there's anything to be ashamed of because this… this is them. Even while being awkward, it's still them. They aren't perfect, they have their flaws, like being in this weird situation for two weeks but it seems that they're out of the deep. Not completely ashore because they have to wait for some time to pass before things get back to normal, before _they_ can get back to normal.

But they still won't hide.

He struts to Louis’ bed, leans in, grabbing his chin gently and turns his body to his.

He finds himself lost in Louis’ gaze, blue eyes so full of raw emotion that he feels ablaze. That single look is like a magnet, he can't look away, it's so intense that it breaks his heart and glues it together at once.

He's so affected that he has to clear his throat twice to be able to utter a word in this state.

“I know that we have to talk,” he whispers, trying to keep this as intimate as possible while gently stroking Louis’ cheeks. “And we will. And maybe I’m about to make a huge mistake now but...” he slides his hand from Louis’ face to his waist, “...but I can’t sleep another night like this. Not without you next to me. So... if you... if you’d like to cuddle, I’m here.”

Louis’ eyes widen. “Are you... are you sure, H? You don’t have to, I ca--”

“Positive,” Harry confirms, looking deep into Louis’ azure eyes before entwining their fingers.

He stands up with a blushing face, pulls Louis after him and they walk slowly to his bed. _Together_. He feels all the boys’ eyes on them. He doesn’t look at them though, having more important matters in his hand.  

He climbs in first because Louis always gets cold when he sleeps next to the wall. He lies down and looks at Louis' who stands next to his bed with wide eyes.

The moment feels big.

Harry lifts the blanket in invitation and it seems to be all the encouragement Louis needed. He climbs into the bed next to him and lies down on his stomach. His movements are slow and tentative. After a few seconds pass he props up on his elbows and turns to Harry, eyes glistening from unshed tears. “Haz, I--”

The pain sitting on Louis’ face breaks Harry’s heart. Again. Without waiting for him to finish what he wanted he wraps his arms around his back and hugs him tight. He starts rocking him in an attempt to calm the war in his head.

He places his index finger on Louis’ lip gently. “Shh, I think we’ve had enough tears for one day. Let’s sleep on it and then we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Louis’ shoulders drop visibly but he still nods, eyes closed.

Harry lifts his chin looking deep into the ocean blue eyes. “Hey, we’ll be okay.” He kisses him gently and softly.

Louis swallows and bites his lip as if to taste Harry on himself again. He scoots closer to Harry and Harry notices the bags under his eyes, the sleepless nights leaving their mark.

He feels the same, emotionally and physically exhausted.

Louis moves around and releases a loud sigh then kicks the cover off and sighs out loud again.

Harry squints an eye open, he can feel Louis’ conflicted but doesn’t know if it’s because he's angry at himself, if he thinks he’s weak just because he cried in front of him or it’s just the stress and exhaustion from the past few weeks.

Harry lets his eyes follow as Louis sits up and retrieves the covers from his feet then spreads them over his body, elbowing Harry accidentally. He then lies on his back, keeps his hands next to his body, then lifts them and places them crossed under his head.

“Can’t sleep?” Harry asks softly, followed by a yawn.

“Sorry, I can... I can go back to me own bed. I don’t want to fuck up your sleep.”

“No, don’t go.” Harry touches his arm gently. He can feel the goosebumps rise on Louis’ skin.

Louis looks up at the ceiling and worries his lip.

Harry frowns. “What’s the matter?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Okay. Let’s just try to lay down and maybe it will come.”

“No. I mean I... I... it won’t come. It’s just I close my eyes and... argh.” He covers his face with his hands in frustration.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah, there’s no point to be honest. Besides, I see you can hardly keep your eyes open. Sleep Curly.”

Harry wants to protest, wants to say he won’t be able to fall asleep if Louis is this upset but Louis seems determined so he lets him fight this internal battle himself.

“Nite Lou,” he whispers before he turns to the wall. He closes his eyes and all he can hear is their labored breathing.

The room is quiet, apart from them. It’s better to not have an audience, though. He will thank them in the morning.

He tries to close his eyes but sleep doesn't come. He was never one to sleep on problems.

He sits up and turns back to Louis. “Would it help if we cuddled?”

“You don’t give up, do you?” There's an edge to Louis’ voice. An edge that makes the comment sarcastic, as if Harry was a fucking nuisance, like an annoying mosquito in the middle of the night.

“I’m not one to give up on people, Louis.”

“Ouch. Guess I deserved that.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “Fuck, I didn’t. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I just I feel like _I_ have to prove myself to you and I think it’s unfair that you’re testing _me_ because I didn’t do anything to lose your trust.” He lets out a deep sigh, too tired to argue. “Sorry, it was a dick thing to say that. But you’re not trusting me and it’s frustrating and I just want you to trust me, okay?”

“I trust you. I do,” Louis says.

“And yourself.”

“That’s a work in progress, darling,” Louis replies softly.

The room falls silent again and Harry lets his eyelids drop.

“Hey, Haz?” Louis whispers, nudging him in the side gently.

Harry is groggy from the slumber he fell in.“Hmmm.” It comes out like a groan. “Yeah?” he tries again after clearing his throat.

“About the cuddling. Can I?”

“C’mere,” Harry whispers softly and begins to move so Louis can snuggle into him.

Louis doesn’t move, just coughs nervously.

Harry dips his head back with a frown.

“Is it okay if... i-if you do the spooning?” Louis stammers. “Just this one time?”

Harry feels there's a smile creeping on his own face, and for the first time in weeks it isn’t a strained one, or a forced one. It gives him so much hope, even more than that, because in that moment he _knows_ they can make it. He _knows_.

“Sure.”

He scoots closer until his chest is pressed to Louis’ back and wraps his arm around his waist.

Louis presses back a bit, closing the minimal distance they have between them. His messy hair tickles Harry’s face like in the old times.

Harry scratches the spot noisily and giggles. Louis lets out a quiet chuckle. Harry's giggles turn into snorts. He needs a few seconds to come down from his high.

Once he’s okay he slots his arm back around Louis’ belly and kisses his temple. Louis closes his eyes, looking calm and happy for the first time in weeks.

“G’nite Lou.”

“Nite H.”

Harry smiles when he feels Louis’ lips on his. 

He's tired but forces his eyes open until Louis’ breathing calms down. It takes much longer than he imagined but at least Louis’ sleeping.

He takes it as a win.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd here we are!!!! :) What do you think? :) Did you like it? Any thoughts to share? Were you expecting this talk? The fears? Were you surprised by the events? 
> 
> Thank you for reading! See you next Friday :):):)
> 
> Rebloggable Tumblr post here: http://tellmethisisnotlove.tumblr.com/post/162983574889/tellmethisisnotlove-title-just-ask-me-to
> 
> Any guesses about that one sentence I mentioned in the notes at the beginning?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! It's Friday again!!! Okay, as a disclaimer I'd like to add the following:  
> I had chapter 11 written for the longest time and 2 months ago I revisited it and just didn't... it just didn't feel right, it felt too easy, too light, it's not how real life works, you just can't -- can't really move on with one shallow conversation, one that barely scratched the surface. So here's what happened: I rewrote the entire scene, added all the questions you as a reader had in you, and yes, the heavy ones were also there because how can you expect them to move on if they're unable to talk about those?
> 
> So I have 2 promises:  
> \- this chapter will be emotional.  
> \- it won't end with a cliffhanger.
> 
> Hopefully you'll keep your good habit and will come talk to me afterwards ;)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> PS: Don't forget to stream Back to you!!!

*

 

Harry wakes up to the sound of birds chirping.  He can't be arsed to leave the bed yet, although he really needs to pee and he will in a minute or so but first he's allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of Louis’ touch. That’s what he missed the most, having Louis next to him, his head resting against his collarbone, his hair tickling his chest, his body rising with every new breath. He hugs him tighter, feeling empowered by being the one to guard his dreams.

Not for long though because the beautiful breathing statue suddenly starts grunting about _heinous ringtones_ and _birds in his bloody ear at arse o’clock_ and buries his head under the pillow.

Harry can’t help but look at him amused beyond belief. In fact he snorts-- then a pillow lands in his face.

“Enjoying yourself?” Louis squints up at him with one eye. He looks like an angry hedgehog with his hair going in all directions but there's a smile he fails to stifle.

“I am as a matter of fact.” Harry chuckles and throws the pillow on the floor.

At that Louis gives up the fight and smiles. “It’s good to see you do that.” He strokes his thumb along Harry’s cheek and digs his finger at the dimple. “Laugh.”

“It’s good to have a reason to do it again.”

Louis buries his head under Harry’s pillow now that his is on the floor. “Oh my god,” he mumbles.

“What?” Harry asks, still smiling, eyes following Louis’ every movement as he waits for him to elaborate.

“You should come with a warning.”

“Wha--”

“You’re putting sappiness on a whole new level.”

“Shut up, you’re lucky you have me.” Harry teases.

Louis’ smile gets wiped out of his face in an instant. “I know. Believe me I--” He turns away from Harry, seemingly struggling to continue.

Harry’s heart swells, Louis’ walls are being built up right in front of his eyes and all He knows it has to be stopped. He sits up quickly, ignoring the dizziness coming from the sudden movement and presses his thumb under Louis’ chin. “I didn’t mean it like that, Lou. I was joking.”

“No, but you’re right Haz.”

“We both deserve each other, in the best meaning of the word.” He pokes him in the side to get some reaction out of him, he's only half successful. “Hey, no more moping.”

“‘M not moping.”

Harry’s chest is vibrating with laughter. “You sure aren’t.” He brushes Louis’ fringe away. “Do you want to go somewhere private? To talk?”

“Yeah. We can---” he starts then squeaks with wide eyes. “Shit, I promised a game with the lads.”

“Oh.”

“I’m gonna cancel.”

“No, you’re not. Go play your game and we’ll talk afterwards. It's not like we're on a timer here, we have all the time in the world.”

They change quickly, roaming around each other in the bathroom like old times. They brush their teeth while bumping hips, their foamy grins match in the mirror.

“I’m ready captain. This match is in the bag. Ready?” Louis asks.

Harry crosses the room to grab some clothes then Louis’ hands in his. “Ready.”

 

*

 

“And who are you--” Liam starts.

Harry's not sure Louis heard him because by the time he gets to “dedicating _this_ goal to” Louis is already by the sideline.

“Hm, there’s this boy who I can’t stop thinking about,” Louis teases and gives Harry a peck on the cheek. So he heard then.

Harry turns his face so he can get a proper kiss on the lips. “You gave him your first and second goal already,” he chuckles.

“I can’t help it if I’m brilliant, Harold.”

“Yeah.”

Louis tips his head to the side examining him closely before he lifts his chin. “At the end of the first half I will pretend that I have a sprained ankle. Then we can go talk, okay?”

“But that’s cheating!” Harry yells.

Louis plasters his hand on Harry’s lips playfully. “Do you need a megaphone, maybe?”

Harry faux pouts. “You don’t need to do that, It’s okay, I can wait, I promise.”

Louis rubs his nose against Harry’s. “I kept you waiting for long enough.” He pauses for a moment. “I really want to make this work. _Us_.”

“Me too.”

“Tommo get ya arse back here, it was only a goal not an Oscar nomination!”

Louis flips Niall off behind his shoulder, pecks Harry on the lips and starts running back to the pitch. “Bring me a blue Gatorade!” He yells turning back halfway.

“Now you have demands?” Harry yells back.

“That’s the least you can do for your boyfriend.”

 _Boyfriend._ Harry whispers to himself grinning.

Liam just rolls his eyes fondly.

 

*

 

“We’re going on a picnic,” Harry says, imitating an old lady’s voice as soon as Louis is out of the shower.

“We are?” Louis’ eyes light up like a Christmas tree at that and that inevitably makes something warm curl in Harry's stomach.

“Yup!”

“How could I say no to this enthralling invitation?”

They put on their sneakers and a jacket before opening the front door. The chilly winter weather welcomes them, immediately turning Harry's cheeks red.

Louis lets go of Harry’s hand as soon as they step out of the house and wraps his arms around himself. Harry frowns and puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket. They walk soundlessly, it feels like it’s much harder being out in the open than within four walls where they had no chance to escape.

Outside, Harry's terrified that Louis might run away again. _No. No. He’s here. We’re okay._

“At least my picnic was on actual grass,” Louis elbows him as soon as they reach a bench outside.

“Heeeey,” Harry hits him in the chest playfully. “I hope this one will be as memorable as the first one.” He smiles recalling their first official handholding and _the talk_ they had afterwards.

“It was so long ago. Everything was so new back then.” Louis smiles, biting his lip. It’s impossible to look away. “Do you think I’m stupid for thinking this is new?”

“What do you mean?” Harry frowns.

“I feel like I’ve gone back in time. Just... I don’t know what’s gonna happen or what you’re gonna say, like... It’s the same as it was back in August.”

Two of Harry’s fingers trail on Louis’ right leg, cupping the kneecaps comfortingly. “I don’t have a recipe either.” He sighs. “Well, that’s a lie. I know that we have to talk.”

“What if it won’t help?”

“Then we’ll talk more.”

Louis places his hand over his and squeezes it before lacing their fingers together, the action makes Harry’s heart flutter.

Louis looks at their joined hands mesmerised. “I don’t know how you do it,” he whispers.

“What?” Harry jerks his head up at him.

“You’re making it so easy even though.. I didn’t sleep shit and I'm afraid my heart’s gonna jump out of my chest but… you... your presence... you make it so much easier.”

Harry bites his lip, sheepish, suddenly. “Since when are you having problems sleeping?”

Louis presses his lips together.

Oh, so it’s not a topic he fancies to talk about. Harry places his finger on his lips before he has a chance to reply. “Don’t downplay it. Just give me the honest truth,” he leaves it there for a few seconds and only releases it after Louis gives a small nod.

“I wouldn’t dare lie to you.”

“I know that.”

“They started the day after... after he showed me the videos,” Louis replies. “That's it I guess. They'll pass.” He shrugs, not sounding convinced the slightest.

“O-okay.” Harry stammers cutting into the silence. He thought Louis would open up more than just putting a timestamp to the nightmares, which he already figured out himself. He wets his lips and takes a deep breath. “You can always come to me when something bothers you, okay? It won’t make you weak if you do that, alright? And who knows? Maybe I can help, maybe I can’t, but I could at least listen, at least I’d know about it. And I-- I want to know about it Lou, I want to be there, I--I want to have a valid part in things,” Harry sighs.

“I know that and you’re right. But it wasn’t something I could share with you.”

At this, Harry lets his hand slip from Louis’ knee. “So you think I didn’t have a right to know that Simon wanted to break us up? Or that my own boyfriend made the decision _without me_?”

“It’s not that simple, you’re always thinking in absolutes, H. Not everything is black and white,” Louis huffs out on a snippy tone.

“What’s not simple? Closeted alone or closeted but together. Hmm, it's a toss up, can’t decide. Let's call mum and ask her to help me out with this.” He fishes his cell from his pocket and unlocks the screen.

“Are you quite finished?” Louis reaches out to take the phone but Harry's faster.

“No, I’m still thinking.”

“You really don’t understand.” Louis raises his voice, annoyed. “You think I’m the bad guy, the selfish one, who ran away.” He's not even asking it, just outright says it.

Harry has to use all his willpower to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “No. I don’t think you’re the bad guy,” he frowns. “I wouldn’t be with you now if that was the case. But you... forgot about me, it’s like somewhere along you forgot that we’re a team.”

“We were. We _are._ ”

“You thi-- you think that was partnership? You think we were equals in all this?”

Louis’ face falls then. “Haz… Please… Don’t... don’t hate me. I just… Fuck. How can I explain? How the fuck could I tell you everything? It was a mess, I was a mess, and everything hurt. Every-fucking-thing. I just wanted to--”

“Because things were _so_ great for me. Every-fucking-thing was _peachy._ ”

“God dammit Harry. I was not ready to hear it!”

“Hear what?”

“That you would choose singing over me!”

 _Unbelievable_. Harry shakes his head. “It’s not like you ever gave me a chance to say anything anyway.”

“Haz... just. You and I both know that you didn’t audition for shits and giggles. You dreamed of this as much as I did.”

“But you _are_ part of that dream.”

“I didn’t _know that_ back then, okay? Nothing implicated that you’d throw… that you’d throw this all away. You’ve been gushing about the competition, how much it meant to you and--”

“--With you included. Meant a lot _with you."_

“I know that _now._ I do. Believe me, but Simon was right: You were born to be on that stage, Harry. And I know you love it. Don’t say you would give it up, that being on stage and singing to a crowd means nothing.”

Harry lets out a heavy sigh in frustration, anger bubbling up and crawling its way out. “But that’s only partially true, I didn’t leave you out of it!”

“I didn’t bloody know that, when will you get that into your head?”

“Oh, sorry, am I being too difficult Mr _Let’s lgnore your boyfriend for two weeks?_ Excuse me for wanting to understand what the fuck happened!”

“You make it sound like it was fucking easy for me, Harry. But it wasn’t, okay? You think I wasn’t suffering? You think I never questioned it? You think I didn’t run every scenario over in my head?”

“How would I know?” Harry laughs in desperation. “I didn't know shit because you didn't tell me anything! How many times did I ask you what was wrong? A hundred fucking times! And what did I get in return? Nothing! You shut me out completely! You shut me out when we were supposed to be a team, we were supposed to be--”

“---Partners, yes, I get it! I was a shitty partner, I know that, and I’m here to talk it out and make it right but I can’t undo what I did, Harry. I can’t undo it.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “You hurt me. You left me.” His voice is a barely there whisper. Then something comes to his mind and gets nested in his thoughts until it craves to be free. "Would you do it again?” He asks, abruptly and when it’s out in the open, he can’t rip his gaze away from him.

Louis looks up at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“You heard me. Would you do it again?”

He looks pained. “You can’t ask this. It’s not fair, Harry.”

“Answer me!” Harry demands. Deep down he knows the answer already, he's starting to get an inkling about the way Louis Tomlinson is wired but he wants to hear it from Louis himself.

“Yes! I would!”

“You would?” Harry whispers, flopping his back against the bench. “You would do it again,” he mumbles to himself. “You expect me to forgive you when you… when you--” he lifts his gaze at Louis, barking out a desperate laugh. “You’d break my heart again?” he continues, no trace of a laugh anymore. “Knowing what I went through, _seeing_ what I went through you’d do it again? Fucking _again_ , Louis? Why the fuck are we here then?”

Louis pulls his knees up to himself, wraps his arms around them and buries his head in his knees. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“How can I trust you?” Harry whispers back.

Louis looks at him, panic and desperation oozing from him. “You know me. You can trust me, because you know me.”

Harry rubs his hands against his face and releases a frustrated sigh. “Do I? ‘Cause I know a version of you who would’ve stood up for us and would’ve fought for me, for us and not one who gives up so easily! I know a version of you who’s brave, who’s facing his problems, who isn’t running away. Where was that Louis in the past weeks? Where is he now? Where is my partner?”

Louis jolts up from his seat. “This is ridiculous, Harry! It’s like you decided that you wouldn’t listen to anything I say. You're parroting the same thing over and over again, you don't pay attention to the answers I gave you already, they were the same all this time: that I didn’t know you’d choose _me_.”

Harry stands up as well. “But I didn’t _choose_!” he finds himself yelling, poking Louis in the chest. “I chose you three months ago and that was _it_ Louis. That was _it!_ I didn't _unchoose_ you!” he cries out, breaths coming up in little pants, eyes burning into Louis.

Nothing happens for a moment. Louis sits back on the bench hunched on himself, looking small, fragile, broken. “Y-you’re… You’re right,” comes his voice, cutting through the silence. “You're right. I... I...I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea,” he adds, hands brushing his jeans. He's fidgeting, turns his head restlessly between the direction of the house and his own shoes, avoiding Harry's gaze the entire time. He’s trying so very hard not to cry but a broken sob escapes him.

Harry wants to reach out but Louis jolts up and takes a step back, avoiding his touch.

Louis turns his gaze up to the sky and the tears don't seem to stop. “I’m so sorry,” He whispers and starts walking in the direction of the house.

Harry stays behind, head buried in his hands.

 

*

 

Minutes or maybe hours pass when a very worried looking Niall appears, shouting all kinds of things. Harry catches a whole lot of cursing and being stupid for staying outside and risking getting cold.

“You've been outside for hours, ‘yer balls are gonna fall off mate.” Niall grunts and herds him inside. Once they get to their room he notices a very worried Liam standing next to his empty bed. “Drink up,” he commands and pushes a hot cup of tea in his hands. “What were you thinking?” He scolds.

Okay, maybe he's right. It was a stupid idea to stay outside.

Harry catches a cold, as expected.

Liam isn't talking to him, all he’s doing is passive-aggressively making him drink hot beverages with a few snide remarks. On top of that, Louis is avoiding him again and for once Harry is the one feeling guilty.

So guilty that when Liam catches him in his bed bringing the tenth hot mug of tea, Harry lets him scold him even more.

“You've been sitting in this room for days. So tell me, was it worth it? Hurting him?” Liam angrily wipes the rim then let's out a deep breath.“ Harry, this shit was eating him up from the inside.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Harry sits up straighter. “And you think it didn't eat _me_ up?”

“Are you running a competition on who suffered more? Is this what this is all about?”

“What? No, I--- No!” he grinds his teeth, fingers clutching into the mug so tightly they're turning white.

“Are you even serious when you say you want him back?”

“Of course I am.” He knits his brows together. _What the fuck_. “Don't I look serious enough to you?”

“Honestly? No, Harry.” Liam sighs and sits on the side of the bed. “You look like someone who wants to hurt him even more, which you achieved, if you’re wondering.” He looks at him pointedly. “You didn't see him, Harry... he was... he was ready to drop out of the competition. He was ready to give up his dream for yours and he didn't do it the right way, obviously, but what he did… he thought he was doing it because it’s the best for you.”

Harry swears he's two seconds from throwing the mug in his face at this point. “But it wasn't the best for me Liam, it was the worst decision in the history of decisions!”

“I know that and he knows that. God, Harry. He fucking knows that. He knows he fucked up. But if you keep bringing it up you’ll never be able to move on.”

“I was supposed to be his best fucking friend and he never even tried to talk to me about it. He never came to me! I would've told him that it was bullshit and Simon could go fuck himself and none of this would’ve happened. But no, he left me in the dark instead of you know--- coming to me-- me. His boyfriend.”

“He didn't tell you because he didn't want to be selfish. He didn't want you to be biased in your decision.”

“What _decision_ Liam?” Harry laughs. “He decided for me! I never had a bloody say in it!”

“I know that, Harry. Believe me I’m not the enemy here. It clearly wasn’t his best decision.”

“Exactly! Like-- I'm just… how the fuck could he do that and think I would be okay with it??”

“Are you really going to ask this same question all over again?” Liam asks.

“Yes! Because I never got an answer, so tell me what I am supposed to do?”

“If you can't forgive him then y--”

“I’ve forgiven him already!”

“Harry. What you're doing is… it’s not forgiveness. And if you can't forgive him then you have to let him go because he's miserable.”

Harry slams the mug on the bedside table at that. “But I love him, don’t you understand? I can’t let him go!”

“Then give him a fair chance, that's what he needs, god dammit! He was manipulated, his biggest fears were turned against him and he fucking proved he loves you more than anything and you keep testing him, for God’s sake Harry! Stop testing him!”

“I’m not testing him, I just want to know why he left me. Why he didn't trust me. Why he never came to me. Don't you think I would've deserved to be told about it?”

“You. You. You. Everything is about you. You're only thinking about yourself while he thought about you only. He needs someone who’s willing to think about _him,_  for once.” Liam stands up angrily.

Harry just sits back, dumbfounded. He can't help but replay what Liam said.

 _He needs someone who's willing to think about him_.

He turns his head to discover Liam is nowhere in sight, only Niall stayed.

_He was ready to drop out of the competition._

Niall looks at him with an expression that's closest to pity and right in that moment it all comes crashing down because fuck, he really fucked it up this time didn't he? “Fuck I'm sorry. I just-- I don't know how to make this right anymore.”

“Just be Louis and Harry.” Niall mutters and leaves the room.

"Easy to say," he answers to no one and scoots up on the bed and curls his body up making himself tiny tiny tiny.

_Proved he loves you more than anything._

 

*

 

He wakes up to aching pain the next morning. His neck feels dislocated from the uncomfortable position he slept in.

He's still somewhat dizzy when he hears the sound of doors opening and closing. It's not loud per se, in fact it sounds like someone is really trying to be quiet.

He looks around frantically, wanting to check on Louis. Always him. Even if they're not talking, just looking at him puts a smile on his face. But what he sees now makes his heart stop. Because Louis is the one rummaging around.

_He's packing._

Harry's heart skips a beat as sadness and desperation engulf him whole. He naively thought they had two more days to talk. Two days to make things right. In his head he already had a plan outlined how he'll approach him and what he'll say, preferably at a time he can actually breathe through his nostrils.

Not now. And not when Louis is packing, seemingly ready to leave.

Harry's eyes find Liam who looks back at him, panic clearly written on his face. There's no way he knew about it. As if hearing him, Liam shakes his head slowly, clearly as clueless of Louis’ early departure as Harry.

Harry walks up behind him, allowing the floorboard to creak so he doesn't scare him.

“Sorry for waking you up,” Louis says barely craning his neck. He doesn't turn to look at Harry, he's too busy throwing things into his suitcase. There's a mess of shirts and pants scattered halfway between the luggage and his bed and ironically, the sight is the visual representation of the jumble in Harry’s head.

Louis doesn't seem to have a system, he doesn't fold anything, just throws whatever he finds inside. He's quite shit at packing.

Harry wants to show how his mum taught him to fold t-shirts the right way but at the same time he doesn't want to assist Louis’ attempt at leaving. Would he really leave without saying goodbye?

Because what's happening in front of him is exactly that.

_Would you leave without saying goodbye to me?_

“Lou. What are you doing?” he blurts out.

“Packing. What does it look like I’m doing?”

Harry lets the snarky comment slide and concentrates instead on trying not to faint.

He feels a faint touch on his shoulder.

Liam.

“Good luck,” he mouths.

Harry nods, he knows he'll need it.

He can see from the corner of his eye as Niall, Zayn and Liam tiptoe out of the room.

He turns back to Louis who's in the process of throwing one of his Toms on the top of the pile.

He has to do something, he _has_ to. He knows that, but the thing is, it’s really hard to think when the room is closing in on him, it's really fucking hard to remember what he wanted to say when there's physical proof in front of him that he's on borrowed time here. “You know we can stay till Monday, right? We still have two days left. It's a bit too early to pack,” he blurts out.

“Yes.” Louis doesn't even halt his movements.

_Do something. Not enough._

Harry puts a tentative hand on his waist from behind. “Please don't go.“

Louis stills. “Harry.” His voice is as weak as Harry’s.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you.” _And for so many other things_.

“It's okay. You were angry. I get it.”

Harry lets out a relieved breath. “So you’ll stay?”

Louis steps away, letting Harry's hand drop from his waist. Nonono. Harry wants to reach out and pull him close again. “Harry I... I can’t... I--”

“Please, stay. Don’t run away from me again. Please.”

Louis’ hands stop mid-air for a moment and Harry thinks he's reaching out to him but instead of putting the luggage away Louis puts another unfolded T-shirt inside. “I’m not running, Harry. But.. you obviously made your decision and I need some time to-- For God’s sake don't feel bad because of it. It was to be expected. I fucked up.”

Harry's sure his heart is beating the wrong beats, it feels like it wants to tear itself out of his chest at what's going on right in front of his eyes. “Do you love me?”

Louis stills. “Of course I do.” His voice is soft and warm.

Harry steps between the luggage and Louis. He barely has space, Louis has shielded himself so well from him. “And I love you.” There's no answer coming to that but at least the packing stopped. They keep looking at each other. “Stay please.”

Louis lets out a deep sigh. “Please don't ask me to stay Harry, I can't. I--I... we tried that already. You gave me a chance. I fucked it up and I lost you. I'm here if you need anything, just--”

“You didn't lose me okay? We just had an  argument!”

“An argument,” Louis scoffs. “You’re calling that an argument?”

“Yes.”

“Harry you want me to change the past but I can't give that to you.” He stands up and makes his way to the closet. It looks so empty.

Harry turns his gaze to the overstuffed luggage, there's room for a few last things only and then Louis will be fucking done.

Louis walks by him and places two folded winter coats in the luggage before starting to zip it up. Harry looks back at the closet frantically because there's still a few more t-shirts and something dark green left there. It's definitely too early to zip up. He steps closer to the closet and oh. Those are his clothes, his own fucking clothes! He turns back to Louis then to the closet. Louis isn't even taking one piece of him, none of his own shirts are worth to him to keep, to at least smell for a week when he's missing Harry. He's... he's completely deleting him from his life.

 _Zip_.

“We'll meet on tour okay? I need time.”

_To forget me._

This is it.

Harry's heart is racing. He turns his gaze at Louis again. 

Louis stops zipping and fumbles with the zipper with trembling fingers. He grabs the handle and takes a step towards the door.

Harry waits for the few seconds it takes for him to leave and to twist the dagger in his already bruised and broken heart as a final act.

But Louis doesn't leave. He just stands there, back muscles flexing from the weight of the luggage. Or his heart.

For a few beats nothing happens and neither of them speak.

Harry swallows thickly. He's not ready. He's not fucking ready to let him go. He's not ready to ever let him go. He doesn't want to think of a future which has no Louis in it. He made so many plans with him. He has to stop him and needs to fucking speak because Louis is two steps from the door.

“But I didn't give you a chance!!” Harry finds himself yelling and a teardrop leaves his eye quickly followed by more. As desperate as it seems he ends up closing the distance in two long strides and wraps his arms around Louis’ middle from behind. His fingers are grabbing t-shirt, flesh, _anything_ to keep Louis there. He hugs him tight, maybe he won't go if he clutches into his shirt as if his life depended on it. Maybe he'll understand they belong together. “I was too butthurt to listen! I just attacked you and yelled at you. It was unfair of me, especially because I'm not innocent either!”

At that Louis turns around and starts shaking his head with such vehemence that his soft fringe ends up falling into his eyes.

He's as beautiful as ever and Harry wants to touch him, _needs_ to touch him. He lifts a hand, only now noticing his fingers are trembling. He brushes Louis’ hair from his eyes gently and traces his pointer finger on Louis’ soft cheek before dropping it.

“It was me who fucked it up Harry.”

It's Harry's turn to shake his head. “I could've stopped it!” he whispers, choking up.

“No, you cou--”

“He talked to me!” Harry yells. “He talked to me and I never told you. I could've… I could… I-I cou-- but I t-thought he.. I  thought that-- that it was all!!” His knees start to wobble as he feels all strength leaving him. He feels Louis’ fingers coming to rest on his elbow, keeping him upright. “If I… if I had told you then you would’ve c-come to me!”

He hears a loud noise, and sees the luggage landing ungracefully on the bed where Louis tossed it. He feels hands pushing his lower back, slowly guiding him to the bed.

Louis takes both of his hands when he sits him down, the touch is so gentle that it makes Harry cry even harder.

They sit like that for a few minutes, until his breathing gets back to normal. He wonders how much more time he has because now that he's sort of okay Louis has no reason to stay. He could leave any moment, potentially from his life but he's seemingly not going anywhere.

“You were right, Harry.” Louis practically whispers. “I’m your partner just as much as you’re mine.” Harry almost chokes when he hears the present tense Louis used. Is that-- does that mean-- Louis’ fingers inch towards his before he links their pinkies together. Harry isn't ashamed of the breath of relief he releases. “We won’t work if we shut each other out when problems happen.” Louis lets his hand drop from his.

Harry catches it and places it back on his shoulder. _Stay_. “You can touch me, you know,” he whispers, voice shaking.

“It just feels so awkward.”

Harry places himself in Louis’ lap and looks into his eyes. They're so blue, like the sky on a day full of promises. “Lou. It's uhm… it's us. I'm still me. And you're still you,” he drawls slowly while he lets his little finger trace some shapes on Louis' wrist. “And I think we could say we’ve both learned from this. I was-- I was unfair with you. I'm just... It was too easier to blame it on you. It was easier to say we could've avoided it when I'm as much to blame and---”

“Harry you're not---”

“---and I sorta know Simon can be... He can be very frightening.”

“Will you tell me what that was about?”

“Will you stay?” He blurts out because he can't _not_ know.

Louis drops his head at that. “I couldn't have ever left,” he whispers to the ground.

Harry cups Louis’ cheeks and lets his thumb run along his face. His skin is so soft and he's  so beautiful and Harry's so in love with him. All he wants is to give. Give him love, give him support, give him reassurance. He kisses him slow and sensual, allows his tongue to trace the line of his lips. He doesn’t tease him, for once he’s just kissing him for the sake of kissing. He’s not in a rush, he doesn’t want to go anywhere, just wants to kiss him until his thoughts are carved in his’ head. The thoughts that are valid and _will_ be valid for a long time. _I couldn't have left you either. I watched out for you even if you thought I didn't. I always looked out for you._

Louis pecks him, smiling. Harry swears that smile will be able to stop wars. He’s a bit lost, savoring the sight in front of him, and it’s probably a bit late when he sees that Louis has one eyebrow raised. Oh. Right. There was a question he never answered.

“Er.. so. Simon.” He feels stupid, suddenly. Shy. Afraid he could say something that would make Louis blame him. Or leave. But Louis looks at him so openly, with so much love that all of his doubts are smashed. He clears his throat and tries to recall the talk. “It was before the live shows, I guess, weeks before he talked to you?” Louis nods. “He had some weird comments about how I was going to be a star and how this _infatuation_ \--he called it--” Harry scoffs, “was taking my attention away from music. But he almost sounded like he was joking, you know? It didn't feel like a threat or anything. It was like-- erm... when a parent scolds you for something and you promise not to do it but you both know you'll keep doing it.”

“I assume you said no.”

“Lou.”

“Come on, I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

Harry keeps his gaze on him longer because is he really? Are they really there? Ready to talk about it without jumping each other's throats? But Louis looks at him so fiercely, like he already decided they're worth it and there's no trace of doubt or itching to leave. The luggage is long forgotten. It makes Harry so happy that he chuckles. “Well, I said thank you for the advice first, then I said no.”

“Always polite, my boy.” _My boy._ “And for the record I feel beyond like shit now that I know you saw through him and I-- and I allowed him to get to me.”

“Don’t ask me why I didn’t tell you about this. It’s just… I actually forgot it ever happened and I… I didn’t want to worry you.” Louis snorts at that. “No, really, I mean you had enough on your plate already with the band and those extra rehearsals.”

“You knew about those?” Louis looks at him with wide eyes.

Harry frowns. “Yeah, I mean... Savan asked you to practice more, I was there, remember?”

“But you don't know about _my_ extra extra rehearsals?”

“Er… no?”

Louis sighs as relief washes over his face. “Oh, okay. I may have sorta hidden in the music room,” he adds bashfully.

“So that's where you always disappeared.” Harry frowns. “Why?”

“Just… needed a place where I didn't have to pretend.”

Harry takes a deep breath and hugs him hard.

“I should’ve---” Louis goes on after they pull apart. “Should’ve known they didn’t want to stop at having Hannah play my pretend-girlfriend.”

“We both thought we knew better and that we did the right thing but look where it got us.”

“You know what was the worst? That I-- I wasn’t even thinking. I was just... sitting in that picture-perfect white room and I watched the videos of you... singing and I just sat there. Paralysed.” Harry takes Louis hand in his and caresses him with the pad of his thumb. “That video haunted me for a long time. There was this-- this footage when you showed your room to the camera and you said “Hello I’m Harry Styles and I want to be a singer. This is my room’. And there were more videos coming and every single one of them was focusing on you and singing, but that one--- that one was… it got somehow carved in my memory. ”

“What did _he_ tell you?”

“He didn't really… say much. I mean it’s--- it’s not like he out right asked me to leave you, but he mentioned the possibility to be signed, and that I'm an obstacle, he… he made me believe I'm not enough. He sort of guided me to a dead end where leaving you seemed to be the only logical decision ‘cause why would you need m--”

“Hey.”

“I genuinely believed it. Most days I can hardly believe that you love me because I’m never lucky enough to get what I want, you know? You’re beautiful and talented and you have a heart of gold and sure we fooled around but I didn’t dare to believe that you wanted anything serious with a person like me.”

“With a person as beautiful, smart, talented and great as you are? I would be a moron not to take my chance.”

“I’m not perfect, Harry.”

“Neither am I. I have a lot of flaws. And I made a lot of mistakes in my life, but loving you is not one of them.”

“I love you too. I know I haven't said it back yet but never doubt that, okay? Don’t ever doubt that, sweetheart. Even if I'm scared just know that you're loved back.”

“Scared?”

Louis huffs. “Shitless.”

“Of what?”

“Scared you’ll wake up one day and think I’m too much work, you know?”

“I won't.”

“You can't promise that.”

“But you can't bet on the opposite either. You have to let yourself win, you know?”

Louis doesn't comment on that, just drops his head.

Harry lifts his chin gently. “Lou. I want it all. You and singing.” He cups Louis’ face and kisses him softly. “And if I can’t have a career because of-- because I fell in love with a boy then… I was-- I was serious when I said I don’t want it. Not if that’s the price I have to pay.”

“So you don't want to run in the other direction?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m only going in one direction.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows.

Louis chuckles as he buries his head to Harry's chest. “God, I hate your stupid puns.”

“No, you don’t. And you smiled so it was worth it.”

“And I was _serious_.”

“I know. But… but maybe you’ll stop feeling awkward if you see we’re just as compatible as ever.”

“You make it easy, you know?” Louis whispers and pulls Harry’s body to his before he kisses him, sweet and soft. “And-- for the record I want it too.”

“I’m arse over tits in love with you.”

“Four tits.” Louis adds twisting one of Harry’s nipples.

Harry gently takes him by the wrist and laces their fingers together. “I know you’re in love with my four tits as well. Big arse over four tits.”

“Go on and mock my most valuable asset, Styles, then watch yourself sleep on the couch at night.”

“We don’t even have a couch.”

Louis kisses the tip of Harry’s nose. “Technicalities, Harold. And for the record, I do fancy those nipples of yours but no more than you do.”

Harry hits him on the knee. “Heey.”

“Why do I feel like we turned a completely adult conversation into kink negotiation?” Louis asks and kisses him on the lips.

A shriek makes them pull apart.

“BLEACH! And that ear thingy! That stick!! What’s it called?” Uh-oh that's Niall. 

They both turn towards the door and Harry can barely contain his smile at the sight of Niall holding his ears, eyes closed as if he was in pain.

“Stop yelling, we're gonna be thrown out!” And that's Liam from the corridor. At this point he's louder than Niall himself.

“I'm not gonna stop yelling Liam! They’re talking about kinks and I’m never gonna unhear it!”

Liam and Zayn appear in the doorway. “Knock knock,” Liam says, one hand extended in front like he was ready to air-knock on an invisible door.

“Who’s t--” Harry feels Louis clasp a hand over his mouth, effectively stopping him from speaking.

Zayn pops his head in. “It’s safe. They're just flirting, Niall. Thought they’d be three fingers deep by now,” Zayn teases while they all enter the room.

“Oh God,” Louis buries his head in Harry's neck.

“Fuck you,” Harry looks at Zayn with a smile. His eyes turn wide as soon as he realises what he said. “I mean Lou.” He frowns and adds with reddening cheeks. “And me.” He feels Louis’ hands wrap around his waist pulling him closer. “Only the two of us. Without you.” He shrieks.

“We get it babe.” Louis chuckles dropping a kiss on his hair.

“Got your shit together?” Niall asks fondly.

Louis’ fingers tighten around his waist. “Yeah. We did.” He whispers, eyes never leaving his.

“Thank God.” Liam mumbles and Harry drops his head before he laces his fingers with Louis’.

 

*

 

The remaining two days pass in a blur of hugs and kisses and love. They're constantly touching and Louis moved all his junk in Harry's closet and bed but still doesn't feel like enough.

They’re okay. More than okay.

They go back to the bench outside to renew the memory and this time Louis doesn't walk away from Harry.

They kiss and kiss and kiss but they also talk. They make promises, promises they mean to keep. They learn the importance of sharing whatever tiny thing that bothers them, the doubts, the tears, the bad, the ugly. They promise to share the burden from now on, whatever it will be.

They think a bit further into the future as well and make plans to look for an apartment after The X Factor tour ends.

“You will never be able to get rid of me Curly.” Louis beams.

“Good because I don't want to get rid of you either.”

“So it's forever?”

“Forevah and evah.”

Louis shakes his head laughing. “You’re shit at rapping.”

“I know.” Harry clutches at his heart in mock outrage. “Am I good at anything?”

“Mhmm let me think.” Louis says, holding his chin like the statue of thinker.

The silence lasts for a minute. Fucking bastard. “You bastard.” Harry slaps Louis’ thigh. He's about to pretend to leave the bench but Louis pulls him onto his lap.

“You reap what you sow, darling. Stupid questions come with stupid answers,” Louis whispers to him softly.

Harry licks his lips and looks at him in a way that Niall would sure define as _eyefucking_. He tugs on Louis’ collar and ducks his head down. When he's close enough he cradles his face between his hands and pulls him closer. He darts his tongue out to explore his soft and cold mouth. He wraps his legs around Louis’ waist before he sits up on his knee and leans down to place a tender kiss on his closed eyelids, darting to his reddish nose and his cheeks before nosing down and sucking on his earlobe, fingers running lazily through the back of his neck.

“It’s bloody freezing.” Louis mumbles, hand immediately reaching up to wipe his earlobe dry.

Harry giggles and swats his hand away before swooping down to catch his other earlobe. He doesn’t dare to suck on it this time, afraid Louis would like it or even worse, which isn’t worth the risk because it really is bloody freezing. Instead he litters Louis’ skin with small kisses. He ghosts down to his neck, making him tremble. He tips Louis’ head back to have better access and bites on his jaw, smiling when he feels Louis’ hands fist in his jacket.

Louis hauls him up and cups his face before slotting their mouths together without any trace of elegance.

“You animal,” Harry mumbles against his lips.

 

*

 

“Do you still mean what you said yesterday?” Harry murmurs into Louis’ hair when they wake up the next day. _Together_.

“I told you way too many things yesterday, sweetheart. Which part you're referring to?”

“That everyone leaves.”

Louis releases a deep sigh and turns his body to him. “Sometimes I do. But sometimes I know that it’s just... a child’s fear, that’s ingrained, you know? It’s like those early memories that can completely define a person.”

Harry brushes his thumb against his cheek. “I wish I’d met you earlier, I wish I’d known you as a child. I could’ve been there for you, you know?”

“Where’s the romance in that? You know, our grandchildren would very much appreciate a love story that started on national television, than a much more boring one, amirite? Best friends growing up together and falling in love? That's cliché.”

Harry looks at him amused. “Grandchildren, huh?”

Louis’ eyes widen. “It’s not like we didn’t talk about our future together before… before...”

Harry shuts him up with a kiss.

Louis chuckles. “I'm gonna work it out. Don't worry your smart head about this,” he whispers into the kiss.

Harry pulls away at that, feeling like ice cold water was dropped on him. “You see... See _this_. This is what hurts.” he whispers.

Louis looks alarmed. He cuts the distance and lifts his chin gently. “What does? Talk to me.”

“That you think you’re a bother. As if your problems would be less important than mine. When I have an issue I share it with you and we talk, but when you do, you say you'll work it out alone. It just sucks hearing this, you know?”

“But..” Louis trails off.

“But?”

“Sorry,” Louis whispers and drops his head down.

It's Harry who lifts his chin now. “I don't only want the good with you. I want everything: the past, the present and the future and if you give me everything it means you trust me.”

“I trust you. I really do.”

“There's no story or memory or parts of you that would make me leave, okay? Whatever it is, I want you to feel comfortable sharing it with me.”

“Okay,” Louis whispers pecking his lips. “ _We'll_ work it out.” he mumbles into the kiss.

“We will.” Harry giggles and goes to put on some clothes. “And I’m sorry,” he adds whispering as he hugs him from behind.

Louis smiles, clutching his fingers with his “For what?”

“For not letting you in.”

“Apology accepted.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! :) Come talk to me if you have some thoughts to share! ;) &Jlt3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting a day late. This was a busy week for us and I stumbled into bed every night and slept before my body reached the bed.
> 
> Here's the chapter. I hope you still like it.
> 
> Peace  
> -G
> 
> Smut warning: ~~

*

 

Harry walks towards Louis and plops himself down next to him on the bench. He looks up at him, suddenly shy. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” Louis croaks out without missing a beat.

“Okay.” Harry bites his bottom lip then turns away for a second. Then looks down, avoiding eye contact.

A minute or so passes like that.

Louis sits up straighter. He suddenly gets assaulted by images from their worst days: a time when avoiding each other was a daily thing, when talking was reduced to a minimum, a time when--- No. It’s all in the past now, they got through it and came out of it more committed and stronger than ever. He shouldn’t think about that.--- He shouldn’t. But then he looks at Harry now and he’s uncharacteristically shy and he’s fidgeting with his phone, avoiding eye contact and it feels unnatural for a moment again, it’s like they lost something they’ve just managed to get back. Suddenly the three layers of clothing aren’t warm enough.

He can see from his periphery that Harry pushes a few buttons in hurry then looks up at him with wide eyes, as if caught in the act and it makes him so fucking nervous, he wonders when he’ll stop being scared shitless.

Then Harry reaches out and they touch and it’s magic and fireworks and hidden tears and fuck, he needs to simmer the fuck down. Harry opens his fingers one by one from his fisted palm and slips the phone into his open palm. He’s not quite letting go of the phone and they both end up holding it. Then all of his worries are gone when Harry squeezes his fingers. He isn't ashamed of the huge relief that floods him, he lets out a relieved sigh, and it’s still so cold that his breath is visible but for some reason he still feels hot by one single touch of Harry’s.

Their gazes lock again and Harry’s eyes turn ridiculously wide. Louis isn't sure what his own eyes are showing or what Harry sees in them, but before he has a moment to think, Harry shakes his head.

Louis wants to reach out and play with his curls that are now flying haphazardly. Then his gaze lands on Harry’s eyes that are showing sincerity and something, something desperate. Maybe it was too early to think nothing bad could happen. _Calm down. It can’t be that bad if he’s touching you._

“Hit play.” Harry says clearing his throat. Despite his cough his voice is still rusty, deeper than usual, but somehow filled with confidence and something else Louis can't really define but likes nonetheless. He likes a confident Harry, there are literal stars shining in his eyes when he's in his element. So beautiful.

Louis forces his gaze from him and glances at the phone with a frown, not knowing what to expect.

Most definitely _not_ what he sees.

_No._

_Not this._

He does a double take at Harry.

_Just not this, please._

He feels Harry’s comforting hand land on his knee and it somehow calms him even though he's afraid his heart is going to jump out of his throat any minute.

“Trust me,” Harry whispers motioning towards the screen, the gentle voice like a balm on a wound.  “Please.”

And right. He does trust him. That was never a question. Even though the video frozen on the screen is his very worst nightmare. Even though the phone is shaking in his hand. He still trusts him.

Harry scoots closer and wraps an arm around him before taking the phone from him. It’s like he _knows_ he hit a nerve _._

Now that the phone is away, Louis takes a deep breath and reaches out to hit play as instructed. He knows very well every word that is to come.

He recognises Anne's voice immediately. Although, now that he thinks of it, Anne wasn't on the video Simon showed him.

_“So tell us sweetheart, what do you want to be today?”_

_“A belly dancer.” Harry replies eyes shining, making Louis’ heart melt._

_“You were a belly dancer yesterday. You know the rules. You can't be the same twice,” Anne replies with a light chuckle._

_Harry looks sideways and bites his bottom lip. His smile is still visible even from that angle. The he suddenly looks into the camera with those beautiful innocent green eyes. “Okay then. I have one. I’m ready.”_

_“You are?”_

_Harry nods with a huge smile._

_“So what do you want to be today?”_

It’s coming.

The footage which undoubtedly represents the worst fifteen seconds of his life is coming.

He feels Harry's fingers tighten around his waist and then gets pulled by the side. He can't help but breathe into Harry's coat, smelling cold, something fruity and warm, video long forgotten. Oh right. The video. He silently thanks him for pausing it, for knowing him all too well and sensing that he needed _it_. Because he just can't. Not yet.

“What's this about?” He asks Harry pointing his finger towards the phone.

Harry pulls him in his lap and he goes willingly, plastering himself against him, fitting against every curve of his body like liquid. Harry kisses the top of his head and places his chin there.

“One day I came home from school and I ended up crying in my mum's lap because I was picked on.” He sounds insecure and distant and even though Louis can’t see him he can feel him shrink himself two times smaller.

He frowns. A Harry who's not proud of everything he is feels plain wrong.

He lets out an involuntary groan, hating the thought of anyone wanting to pick on him let alone hurt him. He wants to find these people, all of them, wants to hunt them down one by one.  

“I remember that I told her I wanted to be someone else. She stroked my hair and said I could be anyone.” Harry chuckles at the memory, dimples popping up finally. “I didn't understand what she meant and when I looked up she was already halfway to the storage room to fetch the camera.”

Harry looks at him with a radiant smile and continues the story. “We went to the backyard. She asked me what I wanted to be.”

As the puzzle pieces finally come together the video doesn't look that scary anymore. It's like the whole scene got a whole new light.

"So I told her the first thing that came to mind.”

“Belly dancer? Louis asks looking back at him with one raised eyebrow.

Harry bites his lip, stifling a smile. “Sadly not.”

“What then?”

“A volcanologist.”

Louis looks at him, expecting more of the story but Harry keeps laughing and he's so adorable that a smile creeps on Louis’ lips as well. “A what?” he asks, shaking his head, incredulous.

“Someone who studies volcanoes.”

Louis refuses to roll his eyes because that much was obvious a volcanologist is not someone who paints walls Victorian style but studies volcanoes.

“Sadly this dream died as soon as I was told that Chemistry was a must, so Mrs Sawyer highly encouraged me to ‘rethink it’, I think those were her exact words. I was sad for like two days until I found another profession to go for.”

“A belly dancer.”

“Not quite. So much for turning that real.”

“Don’t fish for compliments Mr. International Popstar.” Louis pinches his dimple.

“I’m not.”

“I know,” he says softly, playing with a strand and combing it behind Harry’s ear. The strand immediately jumps back. “So you found a new profession, you said?”

Harry nods.

“Let me guess. It was something related to nature.”

“How did you know?” Harry looks legitimately offended. He’s cute like this.

Louis lets out a throaty laughter then at Harry's pout pecks him on the lips. “Because every tree hugger starts out wanting to be a volcanologist.”

“No they don't.” Harry frowns keeping his gaze locked with Louis’.

“No they don't,” Louis whispers and leans in to connect their mouths again, already missing Harry’s taste. He's not sure he'll ever get enough.

“What did you want to be?” Harry asks, nibbling at Louis’ bottom lip.

Louis leans back, not able to reply while he’s this close to Harry’s inexplicably plump pink lips. “Well my Mrs Sawyer was called Mr Callahan and he was a piece of shit but I reckon I was a piece of shit as well. I gave him a run for his money for sure. He couldn't make me interested in his class so it was doomed from the start.”

 _You'll never amount to anything_ , he remembers the exact words he was told. _Do you really think this infatuation of yours will last?_ A raw angry voice cuts in taking him back to the white office. _Do you think you'll be able to keep his attention for longer Louis? He's going to have the whole world at his feet. You know that. We both know that. So how can you think he won't leave you like everyone else?_

The words hurt, a lot. The mere thought still turns his stomach, even though it’s in the past, it’s gone. It will never happen. He clutches his fingers together and digs his nails into his palm.

Harry takes his hand, seemingly deciding to keep it captive. “He clearly didn't know what she was talking about,” he whispers softly.

Louis doesn't know if Harry means Callahan or Simon. He puffs out air through his nose forcing out a smile. “You're only saying that because you're my boyfriend and that's what boyfriends do. Support each other.”

“No I'm not. I mean, yes but no.”

Louis raises an eyebrow.

Harry pockets his long forgotten phone and grabs both of Louis’ hands in his palm, expression serious. “Louis William Tomlinson,” he starts and Louis has to bite his lip from grinning like a madman. “You're the most genuine, honest person with the biggest heart I've ever known---”

“Har--”

“And you can be a frustratingly stubborn cheeky little shit sometimes but I love you nonetheless.”

“Well thank you. Nicely wrapped shitty compliment we're having there,” he murmurs, hardly able to contain his smile so he distracts himself by drawing circles on the inside of Harry's palm.

Both of them stay quiet for a moment before he squeezes Harry’s hand and looks him in the eye.

“Thank you.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn't need to, they don't need more words to know that the thank you isn't only for the compliment.

“You're welcome,” Harry replies squeezing his hand back.

Louis taps him on the knee playfully. “You have more of these videos? Maybe one where you wanted to be a tree hugger?”

At that, Harry's face goes blank.

“I knew it.”

 

*

 

 

They’re given a few days off before The X Factor tour starts. They try to use their time wisely, they sott of have an invisible bucket list after the Simon-thing and they try to do things differently now. For example Harry finally takes him home for the first time and shows him Holmes Chapel.

It’s such a small town, but it’s still overwhelming to be where Harry grew up to be the man he is now. It's a lot to take in and Harry seems to know everyone by name, he’s hugging them before having a brief chat as if they were best friends for years (and maybe they were, Louis doesn’t know).

He just watches it all unfold in front of him without uttering a word.

“Have you met my Lou?” Harry asks suddenly, snatching him out of his mood immediately.  Bless him he's making sure he feels included.  Everything feels right suddenly. _His Lou_.

Harry, seemingly comfortable enough with them, doesn’t appear to give a damn that he’s outing himself in his very hometown with the endearment.

His Lou.

From then on Louis steps forward proudly, offering his hand to the strangers.

“Come on, silly.” Harry laughs dragging his hand when the boy leaves and they’re left alone. “Did you think I forgot about you?”

Louis feels more heat rushing to his cheeks and curses himself for being insecure.

 

 

*

 

 

Harry takes him out of town in the evening. Out of the bloody universe, to be exact. After walking for what feels like hours, he risks a tired “How much more?”

“Patience.”

“I haven’t brought my passport with me,” he whines. “I can’t feel my legs, we’re walking out of civilization and I don’t know how to make fire with stones.”

Harry just shakes his head, the bastard. He smirks and drags him along with him. _Smirks_. “Stop whining.”

They reach a river which looks like any other river, in fact, it’s the least charming river Louis has ever seen. Okay, that's not true but he can't appreciate it, how can he? He’s tired, he hasn’t eaten in hours, he’s afraid they won’t be found when it gets dark, he simply cannot find it in himself to be happy for nature’s creation.

“Tell me you didn’t really bring me here to show a body of water and an old tree, H.”

Harry doesn’t reply and before Louis can complain about that, he feels him stepping behind him and hugging his waist gently. The touch instantly warms him up.

Maybe that fire won’t be necessary after all.

Harry takes his hand, lifts it and points it in front of them. “You see that?”

Louis is just enjoying the sweetness of the moment, staying nestled to Harry, angling his body as close as he can. He just nods.

“This is the place where I had my first kiss.”

Louis goes tense but Harry turns his body to him, and Louis just allows it, mind busy with scenarios of Harry kissing other people than him.

Harry encloses his face in a light hold and kisses him, more like kisses the living soul out of him.

Louis kisses him back with just as much passion and tugs him close.

They stop to _breathe_ and Louis lets out a ragged exhale.

Harry goes back behind, hugs him by the waist again and takes his hand, they're both a giggling mess at this point.

As expected Harry points Louis’ hand in the direction of the ground where this beautiful river lays, such a miracle of mother nature.“You see that?” Harry murmurs.

Louis just nods with a radiant smile on his lips.

He feels Harry’s lips brush the shell of his ear. “This is the place where I had my last first kiss.”

After controlling the shudder and the arousal caused by Harry’s lips, he turns back to look at him.

“You’re such a sap,” he chuckles, hitting him in the chest lightly because it’s such a Harry thing to--to _what?_ He stops poking him and opens his mouth because. _Wait a minute_.

Harry puts his index finger on his lips. “Shut up!” he chuckles, dimpling.

Louis hates that dimple. “But this--” he starts, just to get stopped by Harry’s _entire_ hand on his mouth. _Seriously, Harold?_ “Thi is… not. our… fir--”

“Shut it now,” Harry commands.

Louis takes the opportunity and licks all of Harry's fingers. It's only fair after he covered his lips with them.

“Very mature.” Harry rolls his eyes.

Louis just shrugs.

Harry takes his hand and starts walking them back where they came from.

“Butthatwasn’tevenourfirstkiss!!” Louis yells, proud, confident that he was heard from the two closest cities. If there’s any cities, closeby.

Harry just shrugs, the bastard, so Louis slips his hand out of his and crosses his arms over his chest, eying him with a stubborn look.

Harry stops in his track with a sigh. “Wanted to change that memory,” he mumbles, looking down, shy and bashful.

“You’re so weird.” Louis doesn’t even care that there’s no bite in his words.

“But I’m _your_ weird.”

“That you are.”

 

*

 

 

Staying in Harry’s childhood room turns out to be some kind of out of body experience.

He checks every detail and can't help but smile because every poster, every pin, every dog-eared diary confirms that he’s in love with a dork, and there’s a nice feeling settling in his bones, a feeling that says _this dork is mine, he_ _invited me to his home_ _and_ _I’ll never let this dork go. Ever._

It’s good to relax and get lazy after the busy schedule at The X Factor house. They wake up late, have breakfast even later, lay on the couch in a tangled mess of limbs watching reruns of Friends or when they have more active days they visit the city, or Harry’s friends, or just walk a bit hand in hand, happy to just _be_.

He's on cloud nine.

“Can’t believe you'll be gone so soon again, I’ve just got you back. One day and you're back again. I don't want to let you go,” Anne says, eyes soft, like Harry’s.

Louis snaps his head up from the Panini sticker album he’s found in Harry’s drawer. “Huh? _Really?_ Only one? That’s... that’s--” He turns towards Harry. “Today is our last night here then.”

Harry rolls his eyes with a secret smile. “It’s definitely not the last one.”

“About that,” Anne starts, “Robin’s aunt invited us and we’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

“They’re in York.” Harry frowns at first then looks at her then at Louis and winks. He fucking _winks_ . He did _not_ just do that right in front of his mum. (He did).

Louis buries his head in his hands.

“We’re gonna stay overnight and drive back in the morning, just in time to help you pack,” Anne replies, taking a not so subtle glance at Louis.

Louis darts his gaze away quickly.

“I know you'll take care of him.” Anne whispers.

The double entendre isn't missed by Louis, having been trained perfectly by Mr Innuendo himself thank you very much and if it was possible he’d bury his entire self under the persian rug.

He sits there with reddened cheeks instead.

 

*

 

Anne and Robin say goodbye the next morning. Robin refuses Louis’ handshake and there's no _you hurt him I’ll kill you_ speech. Instead, he hugs him, mumbling _stop this handshake nonsense, you’re family now_. Robin’s smirk is not lost on Louis who must look beet red by now. He feels hot all of the sudden, and not the good kind of hot Harry makes him feel.

_Don’t go there, abort, abort._

They leave and Louis makes himself busy with anything and everything. He’s not hiding from Harry, per se. It’s just that he is a guest and he should leave a tidy room behind is all. So he’s just going to clean up a bit and do the dishes. And while he’s at it maybe he’ll use his time wisely and wipe the floor. He most definitely won’t look at Harry’s every move from the corner of his eye. He's perfectly fine with cleaning, thank you very much.

He’s not going to fantasise about doing _it_ with his sixteen years old boyfriend.

 _“Sixteen_ ,” he murmurs, mentally scolding himself while walking up the stairs to collect more colored socks.

He's just about to climb the last step, _sixteen sixteen sixteen_ when he catches Harry stepping out the bathroom.

He drops everything he has in his hand, common sense and good intentions leaving his brain -sixteen what- and he has to sit his ass down real quick before he does something he shouldn't. He scurries inside Harry's room and places himself on the bed.

Harry comes in whistling, adorably oblivious.

Beautiful, handsome, breathtaking Harry.

Beautiful, handsome, breathtaking Harry strutting across the room, robe dangling off one shoulder which would look ridiculous on anyone but he just pulls it off effortlessly. He stops in front of the cabinet cocking one hip out, like the runway model he should be, the sight makes Louis want to bend him over the only table they have in the room and listen to him moan his name.

Harry is either oblivious of the effect he has on Louis, or he’s hiding it pretty well, unaware of those raging thoughts. He shrugs the robe off ending up stark naked as if he was the only person in the room.

Louis wants to lick every drop of water that’s running down that body.

 _Fuck_.

He's a dead man.

Well, his twitching dick is telling a different story, but semantics.

While he’s losing touch with reality, dreaming about running his tongue along every dip of Harry's body and licking him dry, he’s shaken out of his sex daydream when he notices that Harry is clad in clothes. As in, he’s not naked anymore.

And that won’t do. Nuh-uh... That mistake needs to be corrected right this second, so he walks closer, and Harry as if sensing his closeness, turns around the moment he gets there.

He curls his arm around the nape of Harry's neck right when he opens his mouth to speak but all words die down when their lips meet in a hungry wet kiss, swallowing down whatever would come out. There's water dripping off the back of Harry's hair, wetting Louis’ fingers. He would whine about it any other time.

Any other time.

Not now. Oh god, not now.

He leans forward and kisses Harry more fervently, plastering his body against the cabinet door. He fists the t-shirt Harry opted to wear instead of staying naked and pulls the hem up to have access to his love handles. He grabs the meat of Harry's waist, bringing him closer closer _closer_ , chest flush to his, lips busy nibbling at Harry's bottom lip.

Harry moans and grips Louis’ shoulder blades, effectively creating distance between them.

_Nonononononono._

Louis looks at him, confused.

There's a lot to catalogue on Harry’s face: those usually light green eyes are now dark with lust, his face is flushed, his lips are so red, so kissable, so plump--

Louis leans in, shuts his eyes, ready to meet Harry's lips but he pulls away from him again, holding him by the shoulder this time.

“Lou, hey.” Louis lifts his gaze from Harry's lips to meet his eyes. “I... we need to stop. I’m not gonna--” Harry mumbles and squeezes his eyes shut, he's panting, barely able to form coherent sentences. His grip tightens on Louis’ shoulders as if needing support to stay upright.

Louis was never good at following orders,  this moment is no exception. He stretches up on his tiptoes to tower over Harry and licks a wet line from his jawline to his collarbone. He blows on the wet skin, making Harry shiver and moan filthily. Harry takes it all, tips his head back, giving him more access.

“Lou,” Harry whines after a few kisses.

Louis tilts Harry’s head back with a gentle brush on the chin and steps between his legs, allowing their jeans to rub together, the _stupid_ jeans Harry decided to wear.

“Lou, please,” Harry mumbles again before letting out an obnoxious grunting noise.

Louis knows perfectly where that _please_ comes from and doesn't let Harry go. He was always the one stopping Harry. He doesn't want to stop now.

Not anymore.

He rests his other hand on Harry’s waist and tugs him closer. Harry goes willingly, body slumping against his like a ragdoll. He then reaches up with both hands and pulls Harry’s head down to his.

Harry falls onto him so easily that he has to take a step back to keep them both on their toes.

He starts massaging the back of Harry’s neck, ending up holding half of his weight.

Harry just leans forward, not caring about falling over, seemingly trusting him with everything. His cheeks are rosy, breathing laboured, head heavy

Louis struggles to keep him upright while holding him. His legs start to tremble from staying on his tiptoes for so long. He takes a step forward and pushes Harry's body against the wall, his own hand landing just in time to form a pillow at the back of Harry’s head.

Harry’s whine is not one of pain, so he goes back to work, smiling at how needy he's being.

He finds himself enjoying the control he has over him, maybe a bit too much, if he’s honest. He bites on his neck and sucks the skin, right in time hears Harry’s deep inhale and feels the goosebumps rising on his arm. Louis smirks, proud to be able to get this reaction out of him. He continues his assault by drawing slow seductive invisible circles in the inside of his palm, knowing very well what that does to him. His eyes never leave Harry’s face, he's observing his every reaction closely, testing what’s making him moan and what’s gonna drive him to the edge.

Harry starts mumbling something, hissing, and grabs the skin on his waist roughly, holding onto it for dear life.

Louis smirks and licks over the angry red spot on Harry’s neck to ease the pain. He races his tongue up to his ear, taking his earlobe in his mouth, and starts sucking on it slowly, running his tongue over it once, twice, a hundred times.

Harry's grip becomes so tight on his waist that he has no doubt he’s leaving marks. He continues to lick along Harry’s ear, makes sure the edge of his tongue barely touches the skin.

“What if I--” Louis breathes out, surprised at his own croaked voice. He gives time for his words to register because he needs Harry’s full attention. “What if I don't want to--” Harry’s breathing quickens and he attempts to face him but he keeps Harry’s head on the side. “To stop,” he croaks out panting, heart beating out of his chest with the weight of the words he said.

He never thought he would utter them this early, never imagined he would go against everything he believed in. But there he is, _here they are_ , on the verge of taking this step together.

He holds Harry's steady stare and looks at him with utmost sincerity, allowing his eyes to show him how much he really means what he’s just said.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, voice slightly shaking, mouth hanging open, eyes comically wide, never leaving Louis’. He's tense. So tense. As if afraid Louis would change his mind.

Louis swallows, eyes observing the cracks between the moulding and the floor. Harry's hesitation makes him question this whole thing. _Maybe it’s too early. Maybe we aren't there yet. May_ \--

Harry as if reading his thoughts moves into his space. “No, Lou. Don't,” he commands, holding his chin, forcing him to lift his gaze back at him. “I know how important it is to you to wait, okay?” He pauses to stroke his thumb on Louis’ cheek. “I understand why you wanted to wait. You were afraid that I would regret it but I’m just as afraid you’d think it would be a mistake. I don't want to be your mistake, Lou.”

Louis shakes his head but Harry continues.

“I’m scared you only want to do it because you think you have to prove something. But you don't need to, alright? I will be waiting for you Lou, no matter how long. I just don't want you to regret it because we didn't do it for the right reasons.” Harry’s gaze is so intense that it makes Louis’ knees wobble. “I'm terrified you'll regret it later,” Harry adds, voice barely above a whisper, words twisting something in the pit of Louis’ stomach.

Louis stares at him, heart lurching at the sight of his favorite green eyes covered in tears. He wants to wash those tears away, never wants to see him cry, ever.

He only speaks when he has Harry’s full attention. “I… I know what I said and I thought it was the right thing to do.”

Harry nods. “Yes, I know and it’s oka--”

“But...“ Louis continues. “But that decision was driven by fear and out of everything I can possibly feel right now, _fear_ isn’t on the list, you know?” He attempts at a laugh, but it comes out hollow. “I haven’t really… I didn’t… Fuck!” He takes a shaky breath, Harry strokes his thumb against his cheeks in comfort. He lifts his head and fixes his gaze on Harry, the silence that surrounds them only broken by their heavy breathing. “You already know my deepest secrets, you know about all my shit and you’re still here, still wanting me. That counts, right?”

He doesn't realize when he starts to cry, only when a teardrop tickles its way down his cheek, just to end up captured by Harry’s caring thumb. Harry shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak but Louis continues. “I never fully understood why you fell in love with me. Just… Look at you. You’re beautiful and kind and so amazing and I feel like I’m just a fucking emotional mess.”

Harry opens his mouth, to protest, Louis knows him all too well, but he places his index finger on his parted lips. “No, please let me finish, babe.” he pleads, tears forming a dim curtain in front of his eyes. He looks up at the ceiling with a shaky breath, blinking, willing the tears to return where they belong. He wipes away that one stubborn fugitive teardrop before he turns back to Harry, all emotions exposed, never feeling as vulnerable as now. “I stopped questioning myself, okay? I… I accepted that you love me, even though I--- and I’m gonna… I promise you I’m gonna stop driving myself mad looking for reasons why you love me because if I do I could lose you. Again.”

Louis takes a deep breath, trying to will his voice to stop shaking.

He looks back at Harry, _greengreengreen_ eyes reflecting so much love and want that he has to force his eyes shut before he goes on. “I don’t want to lose you. As fucking terrifying as it is, I… I already know that I _never_ want to lose you. I love you so much that… that it’s making me do crazy things like... I want to grab your hand and take you to the closest Homebase to pick the paint for the nurs--”

Harry crashes into him and slots their lips together, effectively silencing him; he cradles his face, hands sliding down, fondling his waist, brushing down his back, hands ending up at the swell of his arse, sneaking even further down landing on his cheeks.

Louis moans into their kiss, he's so overwhelmed with feelings and HarryHarryHarry.

Harry grabs his arse in a firm grip before pulling him up, up up and Louis has to stretch up on his tiptoes to be able to stay on the ground.

Harry groans as if wanting to say something, but Louis kisses him, words dying into the kiss.

He groans again, this time grabbing Louis’ arse more firmly, kneading and squeezing it.

Louis places his hands on Harry’s shoulders and jumps up. Harry hauls him up, already waiting for him.

The next thing Louis registers is his back crashing against the wall.

Their tongues chase each other in a desperate dance, teeth clacking, lips bitten raw.

Louis’ fist pulls Harry's t-shirt up before digging into his back deep enough to leave marks.

Harry arches his back and pulls away a bit before he swivels his hips forward so their crotches can touch.

It’s a wonder Louis doesn’t come then and there. He can only moan into it, helplessly surrendering all control to Harry and it feels so fucking good.

So. Fucking. Good.

So good that he’s unable to keep himself upright, opting to bury his head into Harry’s shoulder. He's pretty sure Harry's balancing his entire weight now.

Now that Louis’ legs and hands are firmly wrapped around Harry he makes good use of his free body parts and licks up the side of Harry’s neck until Harry’s arms start to shake.

Louis wants more.

 _MoreMoreMore_.

Always more.

If only he was able to emit sounds other than grunts and moans, he could say it as much.

It takes a lot of willpower and a lot of tapping on Harry’s back to groan something vaguely resembling the word “bed.”

Harry doesn’t stop, Louis isn't sure he heard him so to make a point he starts kicking Harry's arse with his heels.

“Bedbedbed.” He whines again, breathless and pathetic, vowels coming out just right this time.

He drops his head on Harry’s shoulder and slides down his body, feeling like a puddle forming around Harry's feet.

They approach the bed and Harry only stops when the back of his knees hit the mattress. He scoots back until his head reaches the headboard, eyes never leaving Louis. He looks so open, inviting and just-- lovely, yet shy and vulnerable.

Louis loves him.

He crawls up the bed to him slowly, makes a show of it, wanting to be a bit suggestive or seductive is the word, he has no idea, but he wants Harry to _crave_ his body.

It seems to be working because Harry lets out a low guttural sound when Louis brackets him. Harry rocks his hips up, chasing for friction desperately but Louis makes it impossible for Harry to reach him.

Harry halts his movements immediately.

_Good boy._

Louis takes his sweet time savoring the moment, just examining Harry’s features.

Harry blushes and turns his head to the side to hide from him. “Stop staring, it's _creepy_.”  he grits out.

Louis just grins. But his smile is soon replaced by something else once Harry sucks in his bitten red bottom lip.

_Want. No. Need._

He needs to taste those lips, so that’s what he does by catching Harry’s upper lip in a slow kiss. Harry’s head turns back willingly, offering a better angle. Louis pulls back, smiling and Harry lifts his head for more.

Harry grunts. Louis knows the feeling quite well.

Wanting more and more.

Always more.

He kisses Harry’s bottom lip slowly, seductively, sucking and nibbling on it, releasing it with a loud smack before he dives in again, biting, nibbling, sucking, touching, reaching, colliding anywhere he can, and only releases it after Harry whines.

Louis is sure that sound will haunt him to the grave. He pulls himself up again, unable to tear his gaze away from Harry.

“We’re really doing this?” Harry whispers, voice sweet and raw at the same time.

“Yeah.” Louis leans down, nose brushing down Harry's cheek. Harry tilts his head and presses a kiss on his cheek in return.

Louis noses down his other cheek  “We are,” he whispers. His arms start to tremble from keeping his weight for so long.

Harry grabs him by the waist and pulls him down, down, and Louis is falling, free-falling, he feels and slowly releases his body on him.

Without missing a beat Harry’s hands leave his waist and grab his arse, creating friction between their still clothed lower bodies.

“You feel so fucking good,” Louis mumbles. He sits up, straddles Harry’s thighs, their skins on fire.

 _They’re really gonna do this_.

“How do you want me?” Harry croaks, voice so deep that Louis wants to record it, bottle it up so he can listen to it for the rest of his life.

He grabs Harry’s wrists and pins them above his head with one hand, his free hand strokes over Harry’s mouth, sinful red lips opening willingly, wetting his finger, green eyes widening expectantly and only now does Louis remember that Harry asked something.

“On your back. I wanna see you,” he replies breathlessly, gaze lost in Harry’s.

Louis sits back on his thighs and presses on Harry's crotch, the action eliciting a groan from him. Harry looks desperate, a wriggling mess. He bucks his hips up, but Louis glares at him. He buries his face in a pillow to stifle another groan.

Louis gently lifts the pillow from his face.

“Don’t hide from me, love.”

Harry only nods and places his arms above his head again.

Louis leans down to pull the bottom of his T-shirt up, then walks his fingers close to the waistband of Harry's jeans.

Harry’s a wriggling mess, squirming with every step of Louis’ fingers.

“Fucking bastard,” Harry mutters.

Encouraged, Louis licks a wet stripe along Harry’s left side.

Harry starts giggling and tries to turn on his other side. “It tickles.” He breathes out, giggling.

Louis takes mercy on him and pulls him up by the hands before taking the shirt off and tossing it, not caring in the slightest where it lands.

~~

Harry lies back down and Louis sits back on his thighs, as if that’s his permanent residence: he spreads his open palms over Harry's chest and hovers over his nipples, pinching the buds between his fingers before going down on him, licking a hot trail from his neck to his navel. He feels the power he has over Harry, he feels every bit, every reaction and wants more but he's afraid he can't take more himself.

He flicks his eyes up at Harry to check on him and he’s met with lips bitten raw and eyes so dark that they’re almost black.

“I hate you,” Harry’s grumbling between his gritted teeth.

“I don’t think you do, darling.” Louis pants, fingers walking excruciatingly, maddeningly slow along Harry’s waistband. Louis’ eyes are fixated on Harry’s face afraid of missing a sigh, a moan, any reaction really.

Harry's hips buck up and this time Louis rocks back.

“Lou,” Harry whines.

“What, babe?” Louis fakes innocence.

“Stop teasing.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” he mumbles before going back to teasing Harry’s navel, wanting to lick it some more but then Harry grabs the back of his neck and pulls him up so he’s eye level with him and fuck if that isn't hot, Harry taking control.

“I know that, believe me. I. Know. That.” Harry grunts, serious. “And I promise I’ll give you plenty of time to torture me more.” Louis’ eyes light up, but not for long because he feels a _but_ coming when Harry bites his lips. “But,” and there it is. “I can’t hold it much longer. Fuck! I’ve been waiting for this for months, you're killing m--”

Louis cuts him off with a hungry kiss, hearing Harry loud and clear, ready to get on with the program if he’s being honest.

“Okay. I hear you.” He breathes into Harry’s mouth. “I thought you wanted it slow,” he adds on a soft voice.

“Fuck slow,” Harry mumbles and they're still giggling when Louis sits upright and pulls Harry’s jeans down and tosses them behind himself.

He turns back to Harry and… it isn’t the first time he’s seen him in boxers. For fuck’s sake, the boy claims clothes are a punishment and Louis saw him naked more times than he can count but… but he never had him in front of him this vulnerable.

This trusting.

This ready to be taken apart.

Louis takes his own clothes off, Harry’s eyes follow his every move. _Hungry_. He has to tug at his own dick not to come early.

He doesn't fuck around anymore, pulls Harry’s boxers down swiftly and watches his hard dick slap against his stomach.

When they are both finally naked, he goes to his luggage and grabs what he needs and throws the bottle of lube and a silver packet next to them.

“For someone who didn’t want this you’re more prepared than I would ever be,” Harry teases, eyebrows wiggling.

Louis can only roll his eyes. “For someone who had to endure watching you walking around naked all the fucking time, it would be stupid not to be prepared.”

“Just saying,” Harry singsongs and Louis wants to throw a pillow in his smug face.

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah. That's the plan.” Harry giggles and keeps laughing.

Louis crawls on top of him and lowers himself onto him.

Harry instantly shuts up.

Louis doesn’t move for a few beats, just enjoys the sweet sensation of their skin touching. He slowly starts grinding in figure eights which makes Harry whimper hard, his messy curls fall in all directions when he tips his head back. Louis can see his pulse rabbiting in his neck and ventures forward like a hungry vampire while his hand sneaks up and down Harry’s inner thighs, excruciatingly close to his balls, but not quite there.

“Goddammit Louis!” Harry’s voice is raw and throaty.

“Alright you impatient oaf!” Louis retorts but there’s only fondness in his voice. He reaches down next to him quickly.

“Well, if you hadn’t kept me waiting f-- you bastard, that’s cold!” Harry shrieks when Louis rubs his lubed up index finger against his hole.

“Stop complaining then.” Louis smirks. His smile vanishes after a beat. “Tell me if it hurts, and we’ll stop, okay?” he adds, softer.

“Yes.” Harry nods, breathlessly.

Louis warms his finger and circles it around Harry’s hole. Harry whimpers at it then nods so Louis pushes in slowly and immediately stops when Harry tenses up.

“No, keep going.” Harry pants, wincing.

“Are you sure?”

Harry nods.

Louis keeps pushing in, drawing a tiny circle to make a way in the tight heat. All the while observing Harry’s face, eyes crossing like a maniac, ready to stop at the first sign of discomfort.

Harry covers his face with one hand and Louis grabs it with his free hand, heart lurching when he notices a teardrop on Harry’s cheek. He leans forward, kisses the tear away before his lips land on Harry’s. Harry’s kissing him back with fervor, as if his life depended on it.

Louis takes his finger out when more tears follow.

“Why did you stop?” Harry lifts his head and pants, confused, eyes glistening in tears.

“Babe, I’m hurting you.”

“I want to do it.” Harry bites his bottom lip.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Louis pleads.

“We’ll use more lube.”

Louis rolls off of Harry. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats, determined.

Harry doesn't speak, waits until Louis lays next to him. They’re on their sides, facing each other.

“What if we…” Harry starts and wraps his fingers around the nape of Louis neck, pulling him close so they are at eye level. “Why don’t we just stay Louis and Harry?” Louis frowns. “I mean… just do what feels right.” Louis nods slowly. “You already know what I like, you know how you can make me relaxed, so just… do what you usually do and we’re gonna be more than fine. And the new things… we will explore them together okay? Like a team. How about that?”

Louis nods, this time with more conviction.

Harry cradles his face. “I love you. It’s gonna be great, okay?”

“I hate it when you make sense.”

“You make it sound like I barely do.” Harry chuckles.

“Because you _barely_ do,” Louis retorts, matter-of-factly.

Harry punches him in the arm. “Heeeey.” Louis falls into him giggling, caressing his chest with the pad of his thumb and looks up at him, his own smile disappearing as his expression turns serious. “I love you too, you know?” he bends forward and captures his lips in a slow kiss whispering in his mouth. “So much.”

Harry grabs Louis’ hair and starts pushing his head down. “Now get to work, mister,” he orders with a smile.

Louis goes quiet, knowing all too well that in a second those words will die in Harry's throat. He scoots his head down and dives in, tongue lapping the precome glistening on the head of Harry’s cock.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters. Louis looks up and sees that Harry pushed a pillow into his face again.

He goes back to run his tongue along with it. The truth is, he loves to tease the living shit out of Harry but he doesn't know whom he’s punishing more by not going anywhere near his cock.

Harry or himself.

He starts stroking him, admiring the veins in his cock. He licks his lips at the sight.

_Himself._

_Definitely. Himself._

Harry’s hands land in his hair like clockwork the very second his tongue licks the underside.

He looks up at Harry's wrecked face from under his eyelashes and starts jerking him off in slow, teasing strokes, eyes focused on his face the whole time.

 _“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ ,” Harry mutters, dropping his head back.

Louis smirks and takes the head in his mouth, only a small part of the length at first. Then he hollows his cheeks and starts sucking Harry off relentlessly, keeping up a steady rhythm.

“More,” Harry whines, pushing Louis away. “Need more. Can’t take anymore Lou.”

“Me neither,” Louis mumbles, mouth full.

“Can I... can I do it?”

“You mean.. you wanna finger yourself?”

Harry blushes and nods slowly. “Yeah.”

Louis almost swallows his tongue. The visual of Harry fingering himself alone is too fucking much. He gulps. “You’ve been…?” the words are stammered.

“Just a lil’ bit... in the... in the shower… is that...?”

Louis buries his face in his hands. “Jesusfuckingchrist.” The images he sees in front of his eyes are too much. “It’s actually really fucking hot.” He grunts. “You're killing me. Fuck. C’mere.”

Harry sits up and places a longing kiss on Louis’ lips. “I love you so much,” he whispers.

Louis waits for Harry to get into position. Harry remains sat on his calves, back to Louis, body uncharacteristically tense. He doesn’t move, at least Louis is pretty sure he’s not in the position how he needs to be.

Louis bites his lips and kneels up, placing a kiss on Harry’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, you’re beautiful in and out. Nothing will change it, okay?”

“In and out. You always know what to say.” Harry snorts before he takes a deep breath and nods. He slowly lies down on his side, bends one knee and lifts it up until he’s lying comfortably, back still to Louis.

Harry’s hands disappear between his own legs and Louis is salivating like a fucking baby. “God, I wish you could see yourself,” he whispers, kissing Harry's cheeks. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” He kneads them until his shoulders finally relax.

“Is it okay?”

“Yeah. It's. Just. So weird that you're gonna be watching. I’ve uhm… always done it alone.”

“Do you want me to... not watch you?” Louis bites his lip as he sneaks a peek at Harry’s arse.

“No. I… I'm just being silly. Sorry.”

“Hey. It's not silly. I’ll be wherever you need me to be.”

“Okay then please can you… can you come here... I’m sorry... Next time it will be better and all but... Fuck! I'm rambling and I don't want to fuck it up. Please tell me to shut up.”

Louis steps around the bed and cradles Harry's face. “You're not fucking it up, love. We don't have to go all the way okay? I just want you to relax. Can you do that for me, relax?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Louis whispers, breath puffing out on Harry’s face.

Harry lies down on his side while Louis quietly passes him the lube.

Louis lies next to him, keeping his head up on one elbow. He tugs on Harry’s curls and strokes his cheek before planting a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Harry is finally visibly relaxed when he pops the bottle open and squirts some lube on his fingers. Louis looks at him, fascinated, while Harry tends to himself, works himself up, never breaking eye contact. Soon enough, his breathing turns into little puffs of _ah ah ah_ ’s.

Louis smiles at him encouragingly.

“Does it feel good yet baby?” he asks.

Harry smiles back, nodding shyly.

Louis nibbles on his bottom lip.

“I want you to do it.” Harry pants when he’s two fingers in.

“Okay.” Louis nods. He sits up and taps Harry’s arse. Harry settles on his hands and knees without missing a beat.

“Tell me when it hurts,” Louis says.

Harry nods in reply.

The slide is easy this time. He adds the third finger and bends on the side to see Harry’s reaction.

Harry as if sensing Louis’ gaze chuckles loudly. “Feels weird.”

“Good weird?” Louis smiles, kissing Harry’s back, encouraged by his lighthearted chuckle.

“Yeah. ” Harry pants breathlessly.

Louis’ shoulders relax a bit now that Harry seems okay. He takes his time opening him up, getting easier access minute after minute. Harry’s rhythmic ah ah ah’s are filling the room and Louis has one hand permanently tugging on his own cock. He curses loudly because fuck if seeing his fingers enter Harry doesn’t make him the happiest person in the world.

“You’re taking it so good, baby,” he praises.

Once he’s buried knuckle deep Harry starts pushing back and Louis stops for a second, mesmerized, watching the three digits disappear in and out of him.

Harry grunts.

Louis returns to stretching him, scissoring him while caressing Harry’s shoulders with his other hand.

Harry rubs his cheek against his hand.

“It’s good, yeah?” Louis asks softly.

“You have. No idea.” Harry moans, voice breathless and eager. “I need you Lou. Please.” Harry pleads and Louis isn't about to say no to him.

Not ever.

He reaches for the condom and before he opens it Harry turns to him. “Can I?”

Louis can only nod.

Their lips crash in a slow sensual kiss, abruptly ended by Harry who rips the foil packet open with his teeth and rolls the condom on Louis, keeping constant eye contact.

Suddenly everything is _greengrengreen_ and _HarryHarryHarry_.

Harry lies down on his back and looks at Louis nervously while holding himself up on his elbows.

Louis parts his thighs and strokes them with the pad of his thumb before he leans down to kiss him reassuringly. “Take your time baby.”

Harry lets out a deep breath and nods slowly.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Louis asks, leaning forward and kissing him again.

Harry nods again with eyes closed, this time more certain.

“Breathe baby. I love you.” Louis is still caressing his slightly trembling thighs. “Relax.”

When Harry nods again Louis pushes in slowly, not taking his eyes off him. He closes his eyes for a second, allowing himself to enjoy the tight heat. He’s holding back, not wanting to hurt Harry but at the same time all he needs is to be buried inside him.

“Slow.” Harry hisses.

Louis slows down his rhythm, distracting Harry with slow kisses which he knows very well are making Harry want more. They stay like that for a while, Louis’ arms slightly trembling, but he doesn’t care that he’s uncomfortable. He’s determined to make it good for Harry.

Not long after that Louis can feel the slide getting easier and easier, Harry’s trembling halts, his breathing also changes and by the way he’s resting his hands on Louis’ waist Louis knows he’s finally enjoying it.

“You’re taking it so well sweetheart,” Louis praises and lowers himself, staying propped up on his elbows, bodies chest to chest.

Harry rests his hands on the back of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. There’s something about kissing while making love, Louis thinks. It’s a whole new level of intimacy. Not to mention the feeling that spreads through him every time he’s looking into those trusting loving green eyes, while their bodies unite in the most intimate way possible.

He moves a little bit but Harry’s hands land on his waist. “Stay like this okay?”

It’s more than okay. In fact, Louis would be quite okay spending his life just like this.

He leans forward, nodding, remembering that he hasn’t reacted to Harry’s request yet. He hovers over him, so they can exchange sweet kisses. When he leans back Harry's grip weakens and Louis knows what it means so he starts rocking into him slowly, smiling at him, trying to put his love, his praise, his reassurance, his devotion, his trust, his everything in that one smile.

Harry smiles back at him with ease and Louis feels like the luckiest man in the world.

Harry's lids close from time to time and he's releasing these raw moans that shake Louis to his core. Louis picks up a rhythm that’s much faster than before and ends up pumping into Harry steadily.

“I... wanna… hear… you,” Louis manages to get out and for a second he isn’t sure Harry heard him but when Harry the good boy he is  starts to pant heavily and loudly, Louis knows he's close to his climax, which is perfect because---

Louis fills his load into the condom with one last push and reaches for Harry’s cock, body still shuddering from the aftershocks. It only takes a couple of strokes for Harry to paint his stomach white.

~~

Louis falls onto him, feeling like he ran a marathon, not caring about the mess they made.

He starts chuckling and Harry joins him without missing a beat. He’s pretty sure that there will be a comment or worse, a pun coming about the mess or how he shouldn’t lie in his own boyfriend’s come but Harry remains quiet, apart from the laboured breathing and the chuckles within. _Happy Happy Happy._

Louis removes the condom carefully and grabs a tissue to clean himself. He practically runs back to bed and lies back where he _belongs_ . On Harry. Beside Harry. _In Harry_. Well. Now that too.

Minutes pass and all they do is breathe in and out. They exchange random kisses to body parts where it feels good or which are close enough and Louis can reach them without moving. Harry lifts his head and kisses Louis’ shoulder and Louis purses his lips to kiss Harry’s lips. Perfectly in sync.

“You were,” Louis whispers kissing Harry’s eyelids. “So fucking--” then his nose, Harry giggles. “Amazing,” he finishes, tongue swiping against Harry’s.

When Harry speaks it’s barely a whisper. “You were so fucking hot.”

Louis drops his head on Harry’s collarbones. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Harry’s fingers trace Louis’ back, stroking lightly against the skin. Harry tilts his head to the side, and bursts into a fit of giggles, making Louis’ head slide from his chest with every breath he takes.

Louis lifts his head to see what’s going on and catches Harry’s gaze lift to the side of the bed.

“I think they proper hid from us, Lou. We caused them such a trauma that they hid from us.”

Louis smiles and looks back at Harry. “They're the same bears you admitted to watching porn to, Harold. I don't think some gay sex would shake them to be quite honest,” he adds poking the dimple on Harry’s left cheek.

“You’re right.” Harry giggles. “And you were right about another thing--”

“I’m always right,” Louis corrects.

“--that I’d be laughing about this when I am thirty.”

Louis stays silent. Harry giggles. Louis hates him. (Not).

Harry lifts Louis’ head up, enclosing his cheeks in a light hold. “Laughing,” he says seriously, “drinking wine,” he adds as a smile tugs at the edge of his lips. He then lifts himself up, lips hovering over Louis’. “With you,” he finishes and curls his hand around Louis’ neck, ducking him down.

Louis resists and lifts one eyebrow. “Thirty? With me? Wow. Someone’s quite confident here.”

“I am.” Harry smiles and Louis kisses the stupid grin off his face.

“I thought you didn't remember,” Harry whispers in a somewhat hesitant voice a moment later.

“I remember everything,” Louis whispers back.

 

#### *

 

They leave Harry’s house with a heavy heart to catch a plane to London where they’ll meet up with the boys and start rehearsing for The X Factor tour.

They've just finished dinner, the conversation has died down a minute ago. He looks up and sees they all look at him.

“Why are you looking all serious?” he asks, trying to sound less nervous than he is.

“We're going to talk to him,” Niall states.

“And ask him to give you more solos,” Liam adds with a smile on his face.

Louis feels his cheeks redden. The mere thought of facing Simon makes him feel nauseated. “No one's going to talk to him."

“But we thought you--,” Zayn starts.

“You thought what?” he snaps.

Liam steps forward. “Louis. It's okay. We just thought we could help you and talk to him.”

“Well you thought it wrong.”

“Lou!” He hears Harry's words but he can't. He can't.

He practically runs out of the door. He knows he's acting like a kid but it's like-- it's like a dumpling stuck in his throat, he can't, he can't do this again.

It's not help he needs, it's time, the one thing he doesn't have because their schedule is tight again and they're gonna perform in front of hundreds of people and he can't afford fucking it up. He can't afford dealing with his own problem when there are much important matters at hand. He ignores it. He can't say he forgets about it because hell no, but he ignores it. Tries to. At least he sleeps better with Harry next to him, so it only haunts him whenever Simon's name is mentioned.

Á propos, Simon’s name.

The boys start to avoid any mention and he knows it's only to help him but it bothers him even more. Okay, he's not a porcelain doll, at least most of the time. He can still think rationally. He _knows_ they have to go to Simon’s office, inevitably.

But for now, he doesn’t want to think about that. Doesn’t want to think about what Simon could possibly do.

He knows he has to talk with that asshole, even though standing up for themselves in front of Simon Cowell is as fucking scary as it sounds.

 

*

 

They're presented with the setlist for the tour and his eyes scan through the papers. Liam. Harry. Group chorus. Liam. Zayn. Niall. Harry. There’s no solo for him. His heart shatters.

_His punishment._

He looks up to find Harry frowning at the same sheet.

The next thing he hears is the sound of Harry’s winter boots coming closer. Harry kneels in front of him, patiently waiting until he catches Louis’ gaze. “We can't let this happen.”

“Har--” Louis starts and looks up. He knows a determined Harry Styles when he sees one and also knows he won’t be able to change his mind, nor does he want to, he realises.

That talk has to come and even if it’s a bit sooner than he’d like, it’s better now than never.

“Okay. I'm ready.”

 

*

 

He isn't ready.

“Deep breath,” Harry whispers and grabs his hands, lip brushing the shell of his ear. “I love you.”

Louis inhales and exhales loudly, a shaky hand resting on the door handle.

“Ready?” he asks, looking back at Harry.

No. “Yes.”

He pushes the door open and marches through determinedly, but his steps slow down as he gets closer. He’s instantly hit with all the memories, all the pain, all the heartbreak those weeks caused and he wants to escape, take Harry’s hand and run away but he can’t. He just can’t.

And it’s not like he has a chance to escape, because he feels a hand grab his elbow gently.

He looks up. It’s Melanie. Blocking their way right to Simon’s office.

“You can’t go in there. He’s in a meeting now.”

“Oh is he?” Harry scoffs.

“Listen, we don’t want to cause any problems, we just want to talk to him.”

Melanie stands, unmoving, in front of the door blocking their way. “I can’t let you in.”

“It’s important.”

Her face drops. “Is this about..?”

“Yeah,” Louis whispers and drops his head. He can see Harry looking between them in his periphery.

Melanie steps away and drops down in her rolling chair heavily. She lets out a deep sigh before waving her arms towards the heavy ornate wooden door. “Go in then. It’s not like I can stop you.”

Louis is sure he hears her mumble 'nor do I want to’. “Thanks Mel, I owe you one,” he rushes out in gratitude.

She all but rolls her eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

Harry takes a step towards the door but Louis stops him. “She was there when I... and she gave me water and helped me. She knows...”

“It’s okay,” Harry replies with a soft smile and squeezes their laced fingers. He loves Harry even more, if that's possible, for holding his hand the whole time and not letting him crumble from that memory and what came afterwards. It still isn't just a white office to Louis, it’s like this one room represents everything he’s afraid of, every decision that could make their lives harder, or worse, make him lose Harry.

“You ready?”

“Yes. Let’s do this.”

 

*

 

“Hello gentlemen. I see Mr Cowell has quite the meeting today.” Louis says out loud with more confidence than he feels.

Five pairs of eyes are on them at the same time.

Louis feels his cheeks blush at the not so subtle, unashamed once-over, judgement and contempt oozing from their looks.

Well, it’s not like they wanted to get in their good graces by crashing their meeting anyway.

Simon coughs, and that’s when Louis directs his attention to him. The old man he used to look up to looks impassive, if not for the slight tic of his jaw that betrays him.  

“Louis, would you mind?” He asks, tipping his head towards the door to signal him to go out.

He steps in closer, Harry following him.

“I do mind, actually.”

“What are you doing?” Simon asks through gritted teeth. “We don’t have a meeting scheduled.” It’s sugary and patronizing. It all sounds ridiculous, and it makes Louis wonder how many times people felt threatened by him.

“I didn’t have one scheduled when you sat down to have a chat with me.”

Simon’s smile drops.

“Do you remember that meeting, Simon? The one where you threatened an eighteen year old boy?”

Simon looks around frantically, seemingly trying to map the reaction of the suits around them.

“Gentlemen, let me clear this up, I’ll reschedule our meeting.” Simon waves towards the guests with a smile that looks forced and fake. He nods apologetically to his business partners while they file out of the room.

“You can stay in the room, it’s gonna be interesting. Skeletons in closets and all that,” Louis says to the two businessmen loitering.

Simon looks angry.

When the room clears out, Simon walks around his desk to this disgustingly expensive brown leather armchair, not directing his gaze at them. He looks smaller and weaker than ever. Louis wonders how he ever looked up to him.

Harry clears his throat. “This,” he starts and raises their entwined fingers, “ _will_ happen.”

“ _Us_ . We _will_ happen,” Louis adds, a bit surprised at how he's able to keep his calm as he speaks primly. He’s putting emphasis on every word to make sure the message is received loud and clear.

Simon shifts on his seat. “Lou…” he starts with a cough.

“It’s Louis to you.”

This seems to put Simon off and he doesn't say anything for a few seconds.

Louis takes advantage of Simon’s temporary weakness to continue. “Uncle Simon,” he calls him, venom dripping through his words. “Funny, I used to call you that.”

“Louis,” comes Simon's warning. “Stop it or--”

"Or what? You'll bring another Hannah?” Harry interjects. “Or you'll do the same to me? You would want that, right? Record sales skyrocketing because no one is gay here.” He motions vividly with his hand like the presenters of a huge project and Louis is so proud of him. “Here's the thing. You can put us next to two million girls for all I care. You can make us force a smile and pretend, but we,” Harry motions to him, “we will happen.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes,” Louis answers as he leans towards Simon. Louis takes a step closer, eyes still on Simon, and places both his hands on the edge of the desk in front of Simon and leans forward. Simon leans back, assessing, waiting, his eyes calculating almost.

“Don’t you ever, _ever_ try to interfere with us again. To the outside world, we’ll be whatever you want us to be, but whenever there’s no cameras, I’m his and he’s mine.”

Simon clears his throat. “He is for now. But what about later?”

“Maybe we won’t last, maybe the band will tank, maybe a supernova will destroy the planet in a week. But what if you’re wrong? What if you’re wrong _again_?”

“You’re fools! You’re putting five careers at risk with your immature behavior.”

Louis resists the urge to yell. “You never supported us. You don’t care about us. It’s all business with you.”

“I never said that. You know I support you and Harry together.”

Louis snorts and Harry laces their fingers together more firmly.

“You had a choice.”

“No, I didn’t. You made it seem like I had one but I didn't, I was completely cornered.”

“Well look who got wiser since I talked to them.”

“We both know you would’ve never invested in a band that was destined to tank. The band’s success? It’s not on me. It’s not my responsibility to shoulder. Not alone at least.” Louis feels Harry’s grip tighten, it gives him strength to continue. “You used the love I feel for him against me. And you failed. And if you were wrong about that then think about what else you could be wrong about.”

Louis takes one step back, not wanting to be closer to Simon than absolutely necessary. “Whatever decision you made about your own closet, it’s your decision and only yours. But don’t forget that I’m not you. I’m proud of who I am, and so is he.”

Simon looks crimson red, the veins in his neck bulging visibly.

Louis tightens his hold, signalling Harry to leave.

He turns back when they reach the door.

“You know, I can’t believe I ever wanted to be like you.”

“Get the fuck out of here!”

“Gladly.”

 

And it wasn't a lie. They leave gladly, just in time before an unwanted panic attack starts.

Harry hugs him. Hard. “I'm so very proud of you,” he whispers.

 

They won this. But they aren't fools. They can very well regret this whole thing. Not each other. Never that. But facing him and telling him what they did.

They don't think about that now.

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is our final chapter. I can't believe it's time to post and publish it all, it truly has been an amazing journey, the feedback blew me away. So thank you again for supporting me and this fic! :)
> 
> Note this chapter will be divided into 3 chapters but all posted in one.

 

**April 2019**

 

The stadium takes Louis’ breath away. It's huge, loud, colourful _._ He swears it’s the biggest crowd they've ever played for, it’s so packed he feels like there are people hanging  from the ceiling.

He wipes a tear when he spots a huge banner “ _We are the greatest team the world has ever seen._ ” The sign is held by ten people at least, it’s that big!

It’s good to be back. So good.

He never dared to dream to play their first concert in a sold out stadium. He thought they’ve lost a great chunk of fans with such an extended hiatus but apparently that's not the case. Funny, because he had this vision (well, nightmare more like) that they would play in an empty stadium, with only their families cheering them on.

He can only laugh at the mere thought now. It's like nothing has changed and everything has changed at the same time. The statistics will tell it was a full house but no numbers can really show what an amazing time they're having. Only them. See, it's not just a sold out show, it's people meeting from different parts of the world to celebrate the same cause, it's their own reunion and their own future standing in front of them singing along with them.

The reason they all do this.

They do have the best fans in the world.

Supporting him and the band this whole time, being there for him through the worst times, being there for _them_ when he got papped holding Harry's hand and could finally (finally!) kiss him in public.

They went through hell and back twice but he can't complain. They're very lucky because they're surrounded by amazing people and their overwhelming support after all those years.

They start the night off singing History and the crowd joins as soon as they hear the first note and they sing until their throats are dry. At the end of the song, he grabs Harry, Liam and Niall and all four of them stand in a line with their hands on each other's shoulders. The crowd goes nuts. They finish the last few notes in a group hug. Niall cries. They all shed a tear.

No one cares that his hand sneaks down to Harry's waist, there are no threats on his in-ear, no consequences anymore, just them and the cheering stadium.

He finally doesn't have to care, they are allowed to _be_. It’s everything he ever wanted.

God, he missed performing. Singing solo and making solo music is fun and challenging but this… this is what makes the blood flow in his body. His boys. The fans. Singing in front of them. Hearing his lyrics sung back.

Nothing compares.

It's gonna be even better when they reach the encore. He cannot wait.

The thing is, he literally had to lie about every single thing that used to be sacred for them for years and Harry stood by him, without questions and he was given so much in his life, especially from Harry that he wanted to give something back.

About a week ago he may or may not (there are no witnesses) have woken up Liam at dawn to prepare this. He couldn't sleep, his mind was exhausted from thinking, thinking, thinking.

The idea hit him somewhere around four AM.

He would’ve been a shitty friend if he hadn’t told Liam, wouldn't he?

So he called Li and waited patiently until he finally stopped cursing him out of this world so he could finally share the idea. Liam loved it and became so enthusiastic that he insisted on waking Niall up.

That's how they end ed up in a three way phone call at 4:30 AM.

By the afternoon Niall learned to play it on the ukulule. They only had a week to organise everything but they knew some people, made some phone calls and it was all arranged within three days.

Thanks to a few acoustic songs off Made In The AM and their solo albums the presence of an orchestra seems more than natural and there's no way Harry suspects a thing.

The show goes perfectly.

They've played Olivia already, with trumpets after Julian eventually gave in. Okay, he was threatened his balls would be set on fire if he didn't agree to it but there were no witnesses and Harry's eyes lit up brighter than a Christmas tree when he found out so it was all worth it.

They're so close to the encore now.

To say he’s sweating is the understatement of the century. The closer they’re getting the more he feels like he's going to swallow his own tonsils.

He's backstage now, trying to wipe his clothes dry (impossible) and sit down for a second (also impossible).

“Relax. He’ll love it,” Liam tells him and grabs at his wrist. He was biting his nails, whatever.

Niall just bursts out laughing and pats him on the back as if he was worrying for nothing. “It’ll be great. Now go on that stage and smash it.”

Okay, now they can both fuck off, he thinks. There's no time to wallow about it though because the crew calls them back on stage.

 _Showtime._  

He’s the first to step on stage from behind the smoke, followed by his bandmates. The crowd immediately cheers. They wave their flags and shake their signs and it feels like the entire stadium _knows_ what’s coming.

He goes to his microphone and waits for Niall to start the intro.

“This next one is a surprise we prepared for ya. We wanted to do this forever but only planned it a short time ago and we haven't had a chance - someone yells _chonce_ and they all erupt in laughter-. “Shhhh,” Niall continues, still cackling a bit. “So we haven’t had a chance to practice it much. I really hope you'll like it as much as we do. We love you.”

There's audible aw’s and oh’s from the first rows and for one second it takes away his attention and calms his nerves down somehow.

He lets out a small smile, turns right and spots Harry at arm's length, head bent down. He looks deep in concentration, so oblivious about what’s to come.

“Louis we need you backstage,” the crew member announces through his in-ear.

It's time.

“We need you to be quiet please.” He hears Niall, voice fading out as he approaches backstage.

Once he steps off the stage, he's escorted by a crew member who does a play by play of what's to come.

He wants to laugh, it’s his own master plan, he knows it perfectly well, thank you very much, but he listens, although a bit distracted, only catching half of what the guy is saying.

“Thanks mate. I know.” He hurries his steps back to enter the stage. He’s ready.

 

He can sense something isn’t right as soon as he approaches the boys.

First of all it's dead quiet.

Unusually quiet.

Niall must've made that intro as dramatic as humanly possible.

The second thing he notices is that he can only make out two silhouettes out close to the mic stands and none of them are Harry’s.

Then he hears a creaking sound and he's fairly sure he's gone mad. He's definitely imagining things.

Because that's…

… it can't be.

He just stands there, frozen in place, and when he feels a hand on his shoulder he slumps against Liam’s body next to him. Thank god, because he was about to faint right there.

That particular stool and that particular piano are supposed to be in L.A. in their own music room and they're in Gothenburg for God’s sake.

Niall is there in a second as well, offering another body to lean on, which he really needs. He's so grateful for having them there, for holding him from crumbling like a house of cards in a thunderstorm.

He’ll make sure to punch them later for playing him.

Harry turns and nods towards him. He winks. The little shit.

He’ll punch him later as well. But for now, he focuses every fiber of his being on the song, on the most beautiful love song ever written in history and it was written for him, _him_ of all people by this beautiful man who waltzed into his life nine years ago and took his breath away.

He smiles a little, when he hears the the crowd catch up on what's happening. Of course, they don’t know the familiar crack of the piano’s stool like he does, but once they recognise the song, he swears the ground starts shaking.

It reminds him of the night when they hugged on their last OTRA show.

_It was four years ago, when they were in Sheffield and Harry looked at him, determination clear on his face._

_He knew very well what was about to come. The groundbreaking cheering, was just an added bonus to the way he felt in that moment._

_Overwhelmed._

_Harry stepped in his space determinedly, placed his gold clad pigeon toes between his legs then they just crashed into each other, colliding with so much force that they almost lost their balance._

_He buried his head into Harry's shoulder and Harry did the same shrinking himself so they could fit and hugged him so tight that it caused wrinkles on the fabric._

_He sensed the weight of the moment the very second their bodies touched. Everyone did._

_Harry bent his head and grazed his lip to his ear then. “It’s not our last,” he whispered, the action reckless, making him squeeze his eyes shut, weak in the knees. He could only croak out, “It better fucking not be.”_

_He patted Harry's back. Pat-pat-pat. He was afraid he would've kissed him senseless otherwise._

Like he wants to now.

Harry’s gaze pierces through him, leaving him stupefied, in a trance like only magic spells can. He doesn’t even know what to do first. His heart is filled with so much love, his body with want, his mind with thoughts.

_If I could fly_

The loudest feeling wanting to break free right now is love. _LoveLoveLove_.

There are no words that can express or describe how much he loves Harry Styles.

_I’d be coming right back home to you._

He shuts his eyes and lets the raspy notes cut a way into his skin and stream all through his veins.

This song. God. This. Song.

It took him _weeks_ to be able to listen to it without crying whenever he heard it.

He still remembers how the song was born... 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting chapter 14 shortly. Promise me you'll read the notes in the beginning.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer time: I had a lot of thoughts about this chapter and I decided to split it in 3 parts because the 2nd part (this one) has some mentions that can be triggering. Not triggering THAT way, but triggering babygate-wise.  
> We all know it's a sham and that you don't have to be a parent to know that, but as this is a canon compliant fic and because the title contains an important line from If I could Fly, and because that song was born in times when the bg machine already started working, I couldn't not include it in the fic.  
>   
> Nothing graphic is described, only their initial reaction, the songs Home and IICF writing process and the days leading to the announcement. It isn't a long part, it really isn't.  
>   
> BUT  
>   
> I'm begging you to skip chapter 14 if you find it triggering or if the mere mention of bg is triggering for you. I want to give you the opportunity to make a decision and be able to have a reading experience without bg if you want that.  
> Please be the responsible adult and make a decision you're comfortable with.  
>   
> So you have 2 options.  
>   
> A: click on Next chapter and skip this.  
> B: scroll a bit and start reading this one.  
>   
> I'd like to stress again how important it is for your own well-being to make a decision you're the most comfortable with. I don't think it's enough to say that you have to trust me because I've never let you down in this fic and kept my promises... This is bigger than that.  
>   
> SKIP or READ.  
> If you read it, I hope you'll love it.

 

 

> It took him _weeks_ to be able to listen to it without crying whenever he heard it.
> 
> He still remembers how it was born.

 

_They were told there would be one last stunt. Harry, him, Irving, Jeff the label and a bunch of strangers were called in a huge meeting room. They were presented with this ridiculous idea that a fake pregnancy would boost his image and that he would be able to come out just a few weeks later. With Harry._

_Both of them said no before the woman presenting it had a chance to take another breath. In fact, Harry got so upset that he jumped from his seat and wanted to leave the meeting immediately._

_They could only calm him down after taking a short break._

_Harry was the one driving home in complete silence._

_Just looking at Harry made his stomach clench._

_The silence was so heavy between them that he had to turn the radio on. He just needed noise, something to distract him from peeking at Harry’s whitening grip on the steering wheel._

_A baby._

_Jesus._

_He shifted his gaze from him reluctantly and turned to his right. The palm trees went by fast. ‘Pregnancies are everyone’s favorite topic’. His eyes flickered to the sky instead. ‘Pregnancies are positive news, they’re the scandal that gives you guaranteed headlines without backlash’. He thought about the charts and the examples that were brought up._

_We could be out, a stubborn voice repeated inside of his head._

_He sneaked a glance at Harry._

_I could be out with you._

_The more he thought about it the less painful it sounded. Just a few weeks. His team had mentioned it at least three times during the meeting. Just a few weeks._

_He compared the last five years to just a few weeks. It seemed such a short time and once it passed they could be out._

_Everything he ever wished for._

_The more he thought about it the more appealing it sounded. He recalled the woman's words over and over again, and it got quite convincing the more times he repeated them but it was something else that made him make up his mind._

_He saw two men kissing near the studio. Out in the open._

_And he wanted that, wanted to do that with Harry._

_He was positively longing for it._

 

*

 

 

_ When he got home he found Harry dealing with their freshly washed clothes in the bedroom. He leaned against the door and watched as he shook a shirt out before folding it neatly.  _

_ Harry as if feeling his presence turned to him with a slow smile.  _

_ Which immediately disappeared as soon as he saw his barely there hesitant smile. He always could read him so well. _

_ It’s like… he knew. Harry always knew. _

_ “What if I do it H?” Louis whispered softly, as if not saying out loud would make less of an impact. He didn’t even have to say the words. But he felt like he had to anyway. As if it wasn’t a decision that could make or break things. _

_ Harry stilled. The blue shirt he’d been holding dropped to the floor. He stood frozen for a few moments, eyes never leaving the floor.  _

_ Then it’s like something clicked in his head and stepped closer and cupped Louis’ cheeks gently. “No.” His beautiful green eyes crossed from the intensity he stared at him and they were dark, darker than the angry ocean in a two-day storm. The desperation was evident in his voice and it broke Louis’ heart. “I promise you we’ll find another way. There has to be another way. Anything but this. I don't want to do this, Lou.” _

_ Louis squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “But we can be out. I want to be out.” It was still a whisper. _

_ “I know that and I want that too, baby, okay? I want it so much, but I feel like-- this isn't the right way to do it, Lou. We don’t need stunts with women to come out. You don't need a baby to prepare our coming out. And you agreed with me. You were there, you hated the idea!” Harry’s voice was raw.  _

_ Just a few weeks. _

_ “We’re being offered a chance now, H. We only have one week to decide and it affects our entire future. A future we’ve been planning for so long.” _

_ Harry’s face fell visibly, hope replaced with more desperation. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” _

_ Louis bit his lip. “I want to do it.”  _

_ Harry stared at him with a hard expression. His grip loosened as he pulled away. “But a baby? A fucking baby? You can’t be serious!”  _

_ “There won’t be a baby, it will end before that!” Louis shouted back just as exasperated. _

_ “How can you be sure, Lou?” _

_ “Because it won’t last longer, you know that. It can’t. Besides, our fans know us and they won’t believe the story for one second. And then... and then it’s only a few weeks and we’ll be out.” _

_ “Please don’t do it,” Harry’s voice was barely above a whisper. _

_ “I need this Harry, I want this. I--I’m sick of hiding. I  just want to do the normal things with you, okay? And I hate that we have to use millions of decoys. I fucking hate that. All because I want to pick you up at the fucking airport! Or I want to have dinner in a nice restaurant? How ridiculous is that? And all those lies goddamnit. It kills me that I can only be myself around our family and friends. I'm sick of lying, sick of pretending. My own fans think I hate you while you’re wearing this ring!” He grabs Harry’s hand. “The ring I gave you two years ago. We’re gonna get married, for God’s sake and I can’t marry you while we're still stuck in the closet. I won't do that to you. When I put your ring on my finger I won't ever take it off because it belongs there and not in the bottom drawer. You deserve more. We deserve more.” _

_ “And we’ll get more.” The just not now was hanging in the air heavily.  _

_ “But I’m offered a chance now and maybe it's not the best way to do it but it's the best shot I’ve got.” The only shot he got. _

_ Harry sighed. “I can’t believe this. Fuck!”  _

_ He left. He simply left. _

_ Louis cried for an hour. _

 

_ They hadn’t spoken for days after that argument.  _

_ Three, to be exact. It took them three days to reach the point where they couldn’t take it anymore. _

_ Harry came behind him when he was making ravioli. ”Babe it’s too easy, I don’t trust this. It looks like a trap,” he whispered. “Remember what happened last time we were promised something?”  _

_ Louis stopped stirring and dropped his head forward, back still to Harry. How could he forget the Apple t-shirt fiasco.  _

_ Harry hugged him by the waist and turned his body to him. “They took so much from us already. What if they do it again? I just... I... If it backfires we’re gonna lose even more time.” Louis swallowed, still not looking up at Harry.“Have you... Have you already decided?” _

_ “I think so,” he replied weakly nodding into Harry’s t-shirt. _

_ Harry sniffled. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” _

_ “I just want to be out.” He cried silently. He hugged Harry tight, before looking at his moss green eyes. “It’ll be worth it, I can feel it. I promise,” he whispered, fingers grasping the front of Harry’s shirt. _

_ Harry cried. They both cried. _

_ Harry agreed eventually, reluctantly, but he did. He trusted Louis’ instinct that it would end well. _

_ The days leading to it were a blur. _

_ Louis was constantly tired, he had been partying for days which was great, but he just wanted to catch a break. He didn’t understand how people weren’t tired of seeing the same high quality pap pictures of him stumbling out club after club. Honestly, they all looked the same. Only his clothes were different. Didn’t people get bored of him?  _

_ Because he had to admit he was super fucking tired and wanted to leave this all and go home. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep for days and wake up just to be tickled by curls. If only. _

_ He knew very well it wasn’t happening anytime soon. All thanks to fucking Julian. He called in extra songwriting sessions and his flight to LA was delayed by ten days because of that. Ten days. _

_ Ten days spent in different continents. Hours apart. Fuck time zones. Those were the hardest, even though they had travelled quite enough but he still couldn't get used to it. Those couple of hours here and there were still messing with his sleep pattern. LA-UK is the worst of them. Being nine hours away meant he either he had to stay up late or Harry had to wake up ridiculously early to be able to talk to him. _

_ They agreed to have full social media ban so luckily they didn't have to see any pictures, even though there were plenty plastered all over the British press.  _

_ He was everywhere.  _

_ Ironically enough after five years of longing to get some attention next to his band mates, to have him in the center of headlines but all he wanted then was to disappear. Bloody ridiculous because he was gonna be on the front of every paper of the world if everything went according to plan. He still wanted to take a time out. _

_ Being away from Harry was always hard for him, which is the only reason he got mad, madder than usual one night after it all started.  _

_ He still had two weeks until he could see Harry. Then, they’d have an entire month together. But that wasn't any consolation. He was mad at the world, mad at his decisions, mad at the industry for forcing him to hide, mad at Simon, mad at every suit who wanted him to be someone he wasn’t.  _

_ It was a rare moment in his life to be this sad. _

_ Harry was miserable as well, if their last phone call was anything to go by. They really tried to cheer each other up, but the jokes fell flat, the promises to see each other soon because those two weeks would fly by sounded empty. They were never good at long separations and this one in particular took a toll on them.  _

_ His friends were a good distraction, but not enough. No one was able to fill the void. He found himself wanting to call Harry for the smallest things, like a nice patterned shirt he saw on a website, then two minutes later when he wanted to tell him that he ordered two. Or when Calvin said a stupid pun he hated but Harry would have loved. _

_ Harry said it was okay, he said it was alright, which they both knew was a big ass lie because being apart, especially before this stunt was so fucking hard.  _

_ He hugged himself as if the pain would just miraculously disappear.  _

_ He grabbed the laptop fast and watched the cursor blink on the screen. Being a songwriter taught him to keep a piece of paper with him so the lyrics coming to his mind in the most random moments would not be lost. _

_ His thumb traced the compass inked on his skin and slowly grazed the word home.  _

_ He missed him. He wanted to console him, help him, reach out. He knew he was hurting just as bad as he or even worse. He just wanted him to-- _

_ I’ll make this feel like home. _

_ He buried himself in his laptop, only allowing a break after he wrote down everything he had in his mind. _

_ Writing always helped. Whatever bothered him looked less threatening when he put his thoughts into words. He looked at the lines he typed and didn’t feel like shit anymore. He felt like he could finally breathe now that he had written the pain out.  _

_ He moved his legs and put the laptop away then called Liam and asked if they could meet up the day after because he had a draft. Liam happily said yes.   _

_ He looked at the words again. The song was hardly finished, the chorus was done and the rest was more drafty than ready. They would definitely need to work on it a lot more, but for now it was enough.  _

_ For now he was just imagining having Harry in the other room. A tiny little smile appeared on his face just thinking about it.  _

_ He grabbed his phone to send him a message even though he knew he could only read it much later. He didn’t care, felt too giddy to stop.  _

_ He was taken aback when he noticed the message, he didn’t even hear the phone chirping, he was so deep in writing.  _

_ It was from Harry.  _

_ I wrote another song for you. X _

_ And that song was If I Could Fly.  _

_ They wrote the two songs at the same time, maybe even the same hour. It's ridiculous how attuned they were, like bookends separated by an ocean. _

_ Quite literally. _

_ They managed to reach each other a few minutes later. He immediately felt calmer when he heard Harry's voice. _

 

*

 

_ “Hey,” he greeted Louis. _

_ “Hi.” Louis sounded tired, voice strained like he just woke up from sleep. “So... another one?” _

_ “Yeah,” he replied, feeling the blush crawling up his cheeks. Louis still had the power to make him blush after all this time. It wasn’t the first song he wrote for or about Louis, obviously, but this song was the most vulnerable, the rawest declaration of love he could muster. Next to their previous songs this one felt elevated to a new level, hope and the promise of a better future kneaded into one song, with a smidgen of Something Great.  _

_ “Will I hear it?” The tiny Louis in the tiny window beamed.  _

_ Harry leaned forward and changed his camera window to full screen view. So much better now. Still tiny though. “You will.” He replied, smiling back. _

_ “So...erm... You couldn’t sleep?” _

_ He played with his bun. “I...not really? It’s hard, being alone on the other side of the world, you know? I miss you babe.” I feel like my heart isn't beating the right beats. _

_ “I miss you too. Just a few days love and we’ll see each other again.” _

_ “Yeah, a few.”  _

_ Everything was wrong.  _

_ He looked around their Los Angeles home. Modern, big, fancy. But it missed a Louis in it. _

_ He walked into the music room. This room was special. It was raw, it was pure, there wasn’t anything artificial about it. It was their safe place, where anger, pain, love and feelings were inked on paper - for once not on their skin. They showed a few important songs to each other here, played a few for the first time. This was the place where they allowed themselves to feel; feel a bit sad, feel a bit trapped because sometimes it got so goddamn hard not touching each other in public. And it was okay, they knew it was okay to just lock themselves inside that room and pour their hearts out.  _

_ He only then heard Louis ask something. “Sorry?” _

_ Louis chuckled. “Want to talk about it?” _

_ “Yeah. I mean, I guess I do.” _

_ And he poured his heart out to Louis. He told him about that day he wrote the song, how he walked to the window with heavy steps before he gazed at the sky like he did when he was a child. As if it would give him the answers he needed, the answers to all the why's. Why did they have to go through the situation, why a baby, why was no one else worried, why did he have this feeling that it would go wrong?  _

_ Maybe he was just plain paranoid. But it didn't matter. He would support Louis in everything, no matter what. But he couldn't help that nagging feeling that if it didn’t work out it would only push them deeper in the closet. _

_ That would crush Louis and if they lost this chance he’d take all the blame.  _

_ He hated the mere thought of Louis shouldering this weight alone just because he dared to want to be free and trusted the wrong people. _

_ But most of all, he hated the distance, hated not being able to be with Louis.  _

_ He sat down near the piano and winced when the uncomfortable stool hurt his back. He welcomed the pain. He liked it on the treadmill hours ago and he liked it now. It seemed like a decent illustration of what he felt inside. _

_ He needed this, because he was in a dark place and just wanted to let it all out. _

_ He closed his eyes and focused on the longing feeling creeping in his veins. _

_ He told Louis about the first notes that were raw and emotional. He didn't even know which keys he hit, just kept humming something, he couldn't turn those thoughts into words yet. It was Clippings of their shared time slipped through his head. He heard his own voice crack then felt Louis' touch and when he flicked his eyes open the disappointment was all too much. It felt all too real. Everything he couldn't have now. He felt helpless, restless. He wanted to spread his wings and fly to London, kick the door open and cuddle up with Louis. The worst feeling in the world is when you know someone needs you but you still cannot help because you're powerless. Like a tiny pawn on the chessboard. _

_ His attempts at hearing Louis’ laugh over the phone all seemed to fail. It's as if words weren't enough. They both knew what was coming and that it was set in motion, too late to turn back. _

_ What should he say? I'm sorry you're going to be a fake dad for a few weeks? I'm so fucking afraid we're going to be fooled?  _

_ Again. _

_ This was the last thing Louis needed to hear so he didn't say them. He was sure Louis was quite aware of his worries, anyway. _

_ It was hard to find the right words but all he could think about was to show his love, another love confession wrapped in lyrics but this one would be different. This one would be for his eyes only. _

_ He stopped playing and snatched his battered book from the top of the piano. The book had certainly seen better days, if the edges of its folded pages were anything to go by.  _

_ He grabbed a pen and started writing trying to summon every emotion he ever felt. Longing. Helplessness. Louis. Their past. Their future. He was terrified. Every time his hand shook his vision dimmed. He didn’t care that the tears pinched his eyes, it just helped him write. Louis. Their rows. Their best moments. Louis.  _

_ He thought about the past, their hardest days. Their beginning. The video. Simon.  _

_ He just let it all out. He didn't want to write the perfect song, just needed to say everything that can be put into words. He wanted to offer a virtual hug, comforting words only a lover says, he wanted him to know he was gonna stay next to him no matter what.   _

_ For when you're lonely. And forget who you are. If I could fly. To you. _

_ I'm missing half of me when we're not one. I'm missing half of me when we're apart. _

_ I’d be coming right back to you. I’d be coming right back home to you. _

 

_ * _

 

_ He mentioned the song to Louis the next day. _

_ “You included all these lines in it? God, do you want to kill me?” Louis asked and okay, touché. _

_ Harry laughed as well, his heart felt so much lighter now that he had Louis on the line, he still couldn’t meet him but just hearing his voice after such an emotional day made wonders. “Nope. But I wanted it out, written down.” _

_ “I’m sorry sweetheart.” Louis pouted. Harry hated that his only visual of Louis was a pixelated video with poor lighting. _

_ “It’s okay. You’ll come soon. And I’m afraid I have to go now.” _

_ “Wait, you didn’t mention how you named it.” _

_ “It's called For Your Eyes Only.” _

_ “I like it.” _

_ Harry frowned. “Not sure it will be the final working title. I need to sleep on it a bit.” _

_ “I'm sure you'll figure it out.” Louis replied, voice so soft that it made Harry tear up. Fuck, why can’t he be there with him? _

_ “Don't cry, baby.” Louis caressed the screen which made him bawl even more. “Just a few days, okay?” Harry nodded soundlessly. “Then we have a month, an entire month together.” _

_ Harry closed his eyes and disconnected the video call.  _

_ A month, but at what cost. _

 

*

 

_ They met in LA two weeks later, as promised. After a much needed I-fucking-missed-you-and-I-just-want-to-feel-you-we-can-make-love-later sex Louis was ordered to sit down while Harry played the song, and thank God for that because he would’ve fainted if he had been standing. He always had a soft spot for Harry playing instruments, but Harry with a piano was something he still couldn’t get used to.  _

_ When Harry played the first notes he immediately felt captured by the song. The lyrics were so broken, so raw, it was the most heart-wrenching love song he ever heard. There was hope and hopelessness sewn in the words. It was them, they were carved into that song. The hope represented them together, strong and forever and the hopelessness represented the black bubble they were put into.  _

_ He bawled like a little kid.  _

_ He needed a day to be able to play Home to Harry. He wanted Harry’s song to settle in his stomach first.  _

_ The next day, Harry listened to Home with eyes shining from the tears, and whispered the last lines along with Louis.  _

_ I’ll make this feel like home. _

_ “I'm naming mine If I could fly.” Harry mentioned sometime during the day. _

_ Louis loved the idea. He smirked at Harry. “If I could fly home?” _

_ “Exactly.” Harry smiled back. _

_ They made love afterwards. _

 

_ * _

 

_ July rolled around, the announcement came and the fandom was left in shock because no one had the slightest idea of what was coming.  _

_ One week, Louis repeated to himself. Only one week and it would be over. _

_ He got the call six days later. _

_ “He’s not playing along,” Irving said, sounding quite upset himself. _

_ Louis wanted to fucking strangle Simon. “What do you mean he’s not playing along?” he bellowed. _

_ “He’s a fucking fool, that’s what. We can’t publish it.” _

_ “Why? We have it all drafted down, this is what we agreed on!” he yelled and he lost it then, realisation settling in his bones. Harry was right. Harry was fucking right. _

_ “I should've listened to him,” he whispered. _

_ Suddenly, the phone was taken from his hand. _

_ “Hey. It's me. I heard. Got to go. You too. Night.” Harry said quietly. _

_ Louis didn’t even register when Harry came to the room. He hauled Louis up and walked them to the bed.  _

_ “I'm so sorry.” Louis cried, head resting on Harry's shoulder. _

_ “Shhh.” _

_ Louis laid down in fetal position on the side of the bed. He felt Harry snuggle up to him and a soft blanket covering his shivering body. Harry held him tight while he cried his heart out. _

 

_ Home. _

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of our journey. Happy and bittersweet at the same time. I'd like to thank you for everything! xx

_For when you're lonely and forget who you are._

Louis just looks at his man, this grown man, singing so painfully raw and real that a shiver goes down his spine, because he hasn't heard the song in years, it was unanimously banned to be sung or played, tainted by that fucking baby scandal and now he wants to cry because this is Harry being Harry, fixing things, rewriting memories, impressions, feelings. Of course, he wanted to fix _this_ for Louis. He wanted Louis to hear his song without thinking of the past, of all the opportunities that were taken from them.

_I’m missing half of me when we're apart._

Now that they’re free and Louis can wear the ring he got from Harry publicly, this song is not only about pain, but about endurance, it feels like it’s their own we-made-it song, it’s the pure and painful confession of a lover. It reminds him of how lucky he is for having Harry, how lucky he is for being able to even share a future with him.

Harry.

His everything.

_Now you know me. For your eyes only._

Harry reaches the end of the first verse and nods at Louis.

Louis steals Niall’s microphone, not taking his eyes off Harry. The stadium goes quiet, everything goes quiet. He’s singing acapella.

 _I’ve got scars, even though they can’t always be seen._ _  
_ _And pain gets hard, but now you’re here and I don’t feel---_

He has to turn away from the audience to wipe a tear from his eyes as he’s close to choking on the last words of his line.

He can’t not sing it dammit, so he takes a breath and gets his shit together, turning back just in time for Harry to join in and it’s only the two of them singing the next lines.

 _Pay attention, I hope that you listen 'cause I let my guard down_ _  
_ _Right now I'm completely defenseless._

The entire stadium goes wild when the chorus comes. The boys join them, the orchestra resumes playing, the entire crowd sings along.

Louis knows that all those high quality pictures will show him crying, which he always hated, hated, _hated_ looking vulnerable or even tinier than he was.

He doesn’t care about that now. All he cares about right now is Harry.

_For your eyes only._

Harry finishes the song and Louis runs to him, he doesn’t even register it at first, only when he feels the wind caressing his face and hears the noise his feet make while taking him in the direction of the piano.

Harry is already standing when he gets there and they crash into each other, just like they did in Sheffield in 2015 but they kiss each other this time, and it’s sappy as hell, and they’re giggling, and crying, and it’s impossible to call it a real kiss because they’re smiling like fools.

“You stole my surprise, you moron.” Louis hits him in the chest playfully. That reminds him of--

He turns towards the crowd. “Our dear Harold here gave us quite the surprise, eh? I also prepared something and wanted to sing it before he stole my show, so I’m gonna sing it _now_.”

He walks them back to the lads and takes a place between them. They stand in a U shape, him and Harry in the middle, hands locked firmly.

He grabs the mic tighter and turns towards Harry. “This is for you, sunshine.”

The audience collectively breaks out in aww’s and he has to wait a little before they grow quiet then nods towards Niall to start with the ukulele.

He takes one last glance towards Harry then shifts his gaze away from him, looking ahead stubbornly, finding a good spot to focus, afraid he’d start bawling like a child. He’s very determined to finish this song from the first note to the last, thank you.

_Wise men say_

He feels Harry’s gaze immediately snap up at him then and still feels so emotional from Harry’s surprise that his voice comes out a bit raspy, it gives the song some more edge, rawness, it shakes a little at the end, because oh god, he’s so in love, so happy with this man.

A little teardrop forms in his right eye, shortly followed by another one from the left. He continues relentlessly, regardless and turns to Harry. He can't help it, he's like the weakest, blindest, most stubborn moth to the brightest most consuming flame when it comes to Harry.

 _Only fools rush in_ _  
_ _But I can't help falling in love with you._

The boys and the strings join after that, and Louis finally has a moment to look around himself. The crowd screams and cries, all hearts beating as one.

 _Take my heart_ _  
_ _Take my whole life too_

He feels content. Here next to his fiance, in front of the fans, the lads who became his best friends.

He tugs him closer by the shoulder and Harry goes, he always goes, and like only he’s able to do, he manages to snuggle up to him in a way that demolishes their height difference. He can only hope Harry knows how much he loves him, because he deserves everything.

Harry is his... his everything.

Harry was there with him every time something big happened, when the band was formed, when they were signed, when they had their first single out, when they won their first award, and every time they won the rest. He was there with him -of course he was- when he got on one knee and received the most important _Yes_ of his life. In fact, it was three yes’es. Harry was there every single time, even if the fandom had no idea. Or some did.

Through good and bad, throughout everything, supporting him, loving him.

The same way he did when they were posing in their home to take their picture together, which caused them more headache than anyone could imagine.

 

_“Lou, we can't have our first official picture in the kitchen.”_

_“Why?” Louis frowned. “It's domestic. It shows we know our way around one.” They were told to keep it simple. Other than that they didn’t receive any further instructions. To Louis it was fairly clear what that entailed._

_But Harry looked more exasperated as the minutes passed._

_Louis lifted his chin up. “Sweetheart, look at me. What do you want?”_

_“Outside. Please. The backyard,” Harry croaked. “Fresh air.”_

_“Okay.” He took Harry’s hand and guided him outside, Niall who was their designated photographer followed suit, carrying the tripod with him._

_When they got outside Harry started pacing so frantically and buried his face in his hands. “Should we sit or stand? Or do you think we should go shopping and take a selfie there? Or walk on the beach? Or maybe eat breakfast? I think we should invite our families to be in the picture or would that be too much? God. How do couples do this? How do couples fucking do this?”_

_“Relax,” Louis whispered, stretching on his tiptoes and kissing his forehead._

_When they figured out they would be standing outside next to a palm tree, (Louis on his tiptoes, of course and would peck each other on the lip) they got into position._

_“Wait,” Harry shouted and disappeared inside before Louis had a chance to blink._

_Louis could only shake his head with a soft smile when he saw Harry emerging from inside with a companion. Harry pulled the coffee table behind them and placed the bear on it then rushed to Niall who held the camera. He looked into the camera and placed the tripod closer. “Here. Good,” he instructed before jogging back and angling the bear a little more on the left._

_Louis watched him in amusement. “You about done, Curly?”_

_“Yeah,” Harry whispered, eyes never leaving his._

_“Good, because I really want to kiss you now.”_

_“Then what are you waiting for?”_

_Louis grabbed him by the nape of his neck and cradled his cheeks. He glanced at those beautiful green eyes before closing his and letting himself feel the kiss, getting lost in freedom, the freedom they have fought for so hard and for so long. No need to look around, no need to check if there are fans or paps. He’ll be able to hold his hand, kiss him, pick him up at the airport. Scratch that. He’ll be able to travel with him, publicly, no more decoys. Fuck, he can’t believe it._

_“Harry, your--” Niall said and Louis stopped the kiss to look at Niall._

_“Oh.” Harry squealed and Louis just kept looking between them, not knowing what they conspired._

_It was Harry who cradled his face this time and that’s when he finally caught on._

_“Show off,” he mumbled because he knew very well that the L inked on Harry’s ring finger was going to be visible for the whole world now._

_Louis darted his tongue out and grazed Harry’s bottom lip. Harry whined into it and pulled him so close that they didn’t know where each of them ended and where the other began. Louis stretched on his tiptoes to get as much of Harry as possible. The kiss got heated in no time and Louis was thankful in a way that this was only a picture, not a video, because their panting would definitely not constitute as something that was kept simple._

_“I don’t think this is what they meant by simple,” Niall mumbled and Louis showed him his middle finger._

_“Send it to me Niall,” Harry shouted while digging his phone out of his pocket. As soon as there was a beep, the picture was there and Harry logged on to instagram._

_“How about an 8 as the caption?” He looked up at Louis._

_Louis lifted an eyebrow. “We’re not quite there yet, love. Still a couple of months to go.”_

_“I have a better idea then,” Harry said and fumbled with the keys of his phone. It felt like three minutes or even a lifetime passed until he lifted his head. “Done. Ready to be posted.”_

_Louis took the phone from him and his heart missed a beat when he saw that his sap of a fiancé used an 8 that’s not quite an 8._

_It was the infinity sign._

_∞_

 

_*_

 

_“Eight. Who in their right mind has a meeting at bloody eight?”_

_“It’s Pablo and it’s 9. That’s not even early, just stop whining,” Harry replied as they approached their realtor’s front door. “You should just greet him with a simple Quack,” he added before Louis had a chance to ring the bell for the second time._

_Louis thought he was used to Harry’s antics by now, at least seven years with him really helped him to be tuned to his frequency but he had honest to god no idea what he meant this time. “What?”_

_“You know when it walks like one---” Harry trailed off swaying from left to right with a smug expression on his face._

_Louis narrowed his eyes and gave him the aforementioned finger. “If I happen to walk like one that’s because you fucked me like there’s no tomorrow.”_

_“Well, it was our last day in the apartment.”_

_“And the day before?” Louis asked, amused._

_“That was the day before our last day in there,” Harry replied matter-of-factly._

_“You’re incorrigible.”_

_Right at that moment the door opened and a hand appeared, only a hand with their keys dangling on two fingers._

_“I didn't hear you protest,” Harry mumbled while stepping in front of Louis. He unhooked the keys elegantly, looking unbothered as if they weren’t just busted a moment ago. “Thanks Pablo,” he chirped then stopped next to Louis. “I know it’s quite hard to protest when I’m fucking into your little pink mouth babe,” he sing-songed and walked to the car, leaving Louis frozen in his spot._

_“Oh my god,” Louis mumbled, rubbing his hands against his face. “I’m taking the bus home.”_

_“Which home?” Harry called out._

_“I don’t care. Any other home. UK.” Louis started walking towards him._

_“You wanna go to the UK by bus?”_

_“You’re insufferable. I just want to go home.”_

_“That’s unfortunate because I happen to have the keys to our new home.”_

_“Give me mine,” Louis commanded while rounding the car but of course, Harry didn’t move. “Please?” he asked, softer this time._

_“No, the other secret code.”_

_“We don’t have secret codes, Harold.”_

_“I know one that always works.” He smiled at Louis softly._

_Louis walked into his space and leaned in. “I love you,” he whispered and leaned back just in time to catch Harry’s frown and his face crumpling._

_“I meant pretty please, but this is even better.”_

_“You're the meanest person I've ever met.”_

_“I made the keychains blue and green.”_

_Okay not the meanest. The sappiest. Louis stopped all his movements. “Did you really?”_

_Harry threw the key which landed precisely in his hand._

_Louis’ gaze flicked to the green keychain. He smiled up at Harry. “I fucking love you.”_

_“My spare one is pink.”_

_Louis could only chuckle. Of course it’s pink._

 

*

 

 _‘Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing_ _  
_ _You're fuckin' perfect to me!’_

_“Happy birthday Louis William Tomlinson!” Harry yelled._

_Louis was… mesmerised, completely in awe with Harry and wanted to strangle him at the same time._

_Harry hopped off the table, pushed the mic in a friend’s hand and ran all the way to Louis. “Lou! I sang Pink! Lou! Did you hear it?”_

_Louis resisted rolling his eyes; the entire house heard it. “I did, sweetheart. But you’re also drunk.”_

_“And you’re fucking perfect.”_

_Louis gasped and placed his hand on Harry's lips with a quick movement. “Harold, there are minors here.”_

_“Har-Har.” Harry pouted. “But you’re only twenty-three once.”_

_“I’m twenty-three for the same amount of time as I don’t know... seventeen, which is exactly 365 days.”_

_“Beep.”_

_Louis looked at him, amused. “Did you really imitate a machine?”_

_“Technically, that’s not true. 2008 had 366 days. And yes.” Harry pecked his lips. “I did.”_

_Louis grabbed his waist, their chests flush. “I love when you go all nerdy on me,” he whispered to him._

_Harry giggled._

_Louis took his hand and held the beer bottle. “I’m also gonna take this from you before you dedicate all the songs to me.”_

_“You don’t like it when I serenade to you?” Harry pouted again. He really was worse than a little kid._

_Louis hugged him. “Of course I do.”_

_“Good. Cause I’ll be singing to you more.”_

_“I can’t wait.”_

 

*

 

_“I can't bear this much waiting. How much more time?”_

_“I’m ready. Want to remove the foil?”_

_“Yeah,” Louis kissed him softly. “I want to see it.”_

_When the sterile foil was removed and the tattoo became visible Louis’ breath hitched. He lightly grazed his finger on the still sore skin._

_It was beautiful._

_‘Won’t stop till we surrender’_

_Louis kissed him on the lips. “We won’t,” he mumbled into the kiss._

_Harry giggled. “Stop or surrender?”_

_“Surrender,” Louis mumbled between two kisses. “Stop. Neither.” Louis laughed._

_“Are you in the mood for getting one?”_

_“Over my dead body, Styles. But I like it on you.”_

And there were so many more memories, so many firsts, and seconds and hundredths.

All of them shared with Harry, the best thing that could ever happen to him.

He can recall all of them, crystal clear to this day.

And he remembers _Hi_.

And he remembers _Oops_.

He can still hear his eighteen year old self letting out a deep sigh, heart racing inside his chest, hands sweaty as he stood outside of the door battling with himself what to do. Leave or go inside.

He remembers the sudden determination that filled him when he gathered enough confidence to push the door open to the toilet to follow the beautiful boy and see if he could be friends with him.

He wanted to know him, wanted friendship but secretly craved for more.

He got to know him.

He got to be his best friend.

And he got so much more than he could ever imagine.

 _Take my hand. Take my whole life too._ _  
_ _Cause I can’t help falling in love with you._

_Cause I can’t help falling in love with you._

He never regretted it. In fact, opening that door was the best decision he has ever made.

 

 

 

*** THE END ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING IT, FOR STAYING WITH ME THIS LONG, I'M OVERWHELMED BY THE SUPPORT AND IT'S ONLY MY SECOND FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN.  
> As comments and kudos seem to be the currency on ao3 I'd appreciate kudos and comments if you feel like giving some. :)
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL, PLEASE LOVE EACH OTHER AND TAKE GOOD CARE!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading it! If you liked it please leave kudos, comments and reblog the original tumblr post:  
> [here](http://tellmethisisnotlove.tumblr.com/post/160690010229/title-just-ask-me-to-rating-explicit-paring)  
> 


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